#she seemed pretty certain about it. very serious about never going through that again.

[castrovulcant]

[Image description: a close up of a person looking distressed as they are crying and screaming. /end image description]

me when a fictional woman decides not to get an abortion

[kookygranger]

Blue Christmas

Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader

Aka Fairytale of Hawkins: Part Three

Summary: The town of Hawkins calls for you once again this Christmas, but with sugar-laced memories of a certain metalhead tainted by a recent breakup your stance on the holiday season has returned in full force.

Warnings: angst with fluff ending (it's a Hallmark Christmas!), casual holiday drinking, exes to smitten, reader and Eddie are in their late 20s/early 30s, swearing

Word count: 6.8k

Author's note: It's been a year since we were all here in this little corner of the world so I would just like to say – whether there were more moments of accomplishments, love, gratitude, euphoria, or just more of the same as these past few years seem to have presented so many of us – I hope you find some form of joy and a moment to breathe at the end of another year, or at least that it comes to you soon. You are not alone in this feeling; we keep on moving.

Part One | Part Two

8 weeks ‘til Christmas

“I’m gonna book my flights tonight, do you want me to do yours too?” The blank stare you give Robin is reciprocated when she looks over at your silence. “The price will just go up if we wait.”

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“Booking flights. For Christmas. To Hawkins.” Your frown deepens with every additional sentence she pushes out. “We talked about this last month.”

“You thought I was serious?”

She shifts her body to face yours on the sofa, tucking her leg in. “When I asked if you were coming you said, oh sure!”

“Robin, it’s called sarcasm. I thought you were fond of the language.”

She frowns back at you, “You’re not coming for Christmas?”

You shake your head, “You can’t be serious.”

“Everybody’s expecting you.”

“I’m pretty sure they’re not.”

“You had so much fun last year–“

“Robin.”

“–Max and El want to go ice skating with you, and Steve’s already making plans–“

“Robin!”

“What?!” She throws her hands in the air, her shoulders meeting her ears.

“Eddie and I broke up.”

She nods once, “I know.”

“Okayyy, so what makes you think I could ever go back to Hawkins?”

“You’re being a little dramatic.”

“I can’t crash your Christmas are you kidding?! I’m the ex-whatever now. I’m the outsider again.”

She rolls her eyes, “Except you’re not. You’re a part of the family. Everyone’s so excited to see you.”

“Uh, I don’t think Eddie is.”

She breathes out a huff, “I think if the two of you saw each other this whole thing would just blow over.”

You tuck your legs towards your chest, focusing back on the TV.

“I’m not having this conversation again. Eddie was very clear about what he wanted. He doesn’t want to see me, and I’m never ever going back to that town. Especially, not for Christmas.”

***

7 days ‘til Christmas – Hawkins, Indiana

“Are you just gonna stand there pouting the whole time or are you gonna join in?”

Robin’s voice snaps your attention from Frank Sinatra crooning from the open window of her parent’s house. You frown, looking down at the string of lights wound around your hands then up at Steve as he balances on the ladder, placing the lights along the gutter and brushing the snow away as he goes.

You peer around the ladder at Robin, holding her own bundle in the warmth of the house. “What does it look like I’m doing?”

“Try looking a little less like you’re being held against your will.” She shouts through the window.

You’re about to tell her that’s exactly what’s happening, thinking back to a couple of days ago when Steve had shown up out of the blue at your shared apartment, telling you he was going to drive Robin home for the holidays before suggesting you all go out for something to eat before they left. It had taken you 28 minutes to ask where on earth Steve was going, initially distracted by his detailed update of Dustin’s last year of college. You clocked the shifty look he shared with Robin in the front seat at the same time you realised you were about to turn onto the highway.

But Steve interrupts your bitter reminiscing with his own interjection, “Jesus Rob, leave her alone. I don’t see you out here freezing your ass off.”

You thank Steve as Robin rolls her eyes and resumes decorating.

“Anytime. We kidnapped you ‘cause we love you, you know that right?” He looks down in between the gap of his arms with an apologetic smile.

“Yeah, I know.”

He nods, “It’ll be alright.”

You give him a barely reassuring nod in return, ignoring the stinging at the back of your eyes while Frank sings about glistening treetops like the snow-capped ones lining the suburban street. You sniffle and wipe your nose quickly, hoping Steve thinks it’s just the cold and has nothing to do with how you wish it was his roommate who was comforting you instead, and the pain of knowing he was so close but wouldn’t care anymore.

You focus on unwinding more of the lights as Steve descends the ladder to move it over.

How the hell did you get dragged into this again?

***

I’m twirlin’ a cane made of peppermint

Uh huh (uh huh), uh huh (uh huh)

Nice sticky hands, sticky peppermint

Uh huh (uh huh) uh huh (uh huh)

Spun sugary cloud I’m floatin’ on

The fresh fallen snow melts into the tyre tracks left by traffic along the main street. You watch it through the frosted glass of the diner, one hand cradling the warm mug on the table in front of you.

“Gosh, you’d think they’d give the Christmas songs a break every now and then.”

“I actually kind of like this one.”

Nancy watches you watching the outside world, checking over her shoulder to see if Robin is still occupied in the bathroom before leaning in across the table.

“So, how are you feeling about seeing him? Have you two talked about it yet? Are you both going to be at everything together or are you taking turns? We could totally do something separate if you’re not feeling up to it–we could go shopping, just us two!”

You turn to smile at her, “Jeez Nancy, you should be a reporter or something.”

She shakes her head with a smile, “Sorry. I just know things can feel a little overwhelming coming back to Hawkins with everybody here. I don’t want you to feel left out or uncomfortable or anything.” She glances over her shoulder again, “And Robin kind of seems–“

“She’s not really accepted it, I think. Keeps saying it’ll all blow over.”

“Could it?”

Your attention is caught by a man ringing a gold bell in a Santa suit walking past the window before it falls on Nancy again, with her look of quiet hopefulness. She’s smart, defiant, and effortlessly beautiful. Even in your brief encounters with her, you’ve always been in awe of her strength. You think about Steve and wonder how long it took for the pain of being around her to turn into gentleness again. You think about asking her how you can be strong and vulnerable in love at the same time.

“It just didn’t work out. I’m sure he’ll find someone better for him soon enough. If he hasn’t already.”

“Oh, n–“ Nancy flinches as Robin slaps her hands on the table, before sharing a knowing smile with you at her proclamation.

“I just had the best idea!’

“In the toilet, Rob?” You laugh, “Can’t wait to hear this one.”

She slides into the booth seat next to you, bumping your shoulder gently with hers. “I think we ditch the civilized lunch, go home, get changed and meet back at the bar for a grown-up girl’s night. Whaddya think?”

You shake your head, “I don’t think grown-ups actually call themselves grown-ups.”

“They refer to themselves as adults,” Nancy nods knowingly, “and they pronounce it a-D-ults.”

You turn your head towards Robin, “Plus our last trip to the watering hole in this town didn’t really end well for us.”

“He won’t be there if that’s what you’re worried about. Steve said he works late at the shop on Fridays.”

“Robin.” Nancy’s warning glare is enough to make you feel flushed, but Robin only shrugs dramatically.

“Why does everybody keep looking at me like that?! This is my best friend,” her arm squeezes around your shoulders and you giggle when she pinches your cheeks together, “and I’m always looking out for her, which is why she is here and why we’re getting festively hammered tonight at the Hideout. No boys allowed.”

***

The Hideout is exactly as you remember. All sticky tabletops, dim lighting, and gruff patrons (with the exception of a few young home for the holiday-ers). Robin wastes no time in ordering shots, keeping both you and Nancy on your toes, until you’re very much not.

“I can’t even tell which is stripes and which is…the other one.” Nancy drops her pool cue on the green table. “’M calling Jonathan.”

“I’ll call Steve!” Robin follows her to the payphone on the wall.

“But we can fit one car.” Your slightly slurred voice of reason is waved off by Robin and it’s not long until you’re waving at Jonathan’s retreating car, feeling her head slump against your shoulder, your breath leaving you in clouds.

“I don’t feel good.”

You pat her gently on the head, “Steve will be here soon.”

“No, I really don’t feel good.”

“Are you going to throw up?”

She mumbles something that sounds like a yes into your shoulder and you move swiftly to turn her body away from you and support her off to the side of the bar where there’s shrubbery. She spits a couple of times first and you think it might be a false alarm before she’s vomiting all over the bushes.

“Okay, there we go.” You pat her on the back, holding her hair away from her face.

There’s a slam of a car door echoing across the small carpark that makes you turn your head, hoping it’s Steve. When you hear another one followed by girlish giggling your attention turns back to Robin, finally starting to shiver from the cold as the alcohol begins wearing off.

“C’mon Steve.” You mutter.

The hand that’s rubbing circles on Robin’s back freezes when you hear a familiar voice cut through the giggling behind you.

“And then the car just sprays the hell out of him with oil.”

Shit. Shit. Shit.

You glance over your shoulder with a hammering heart; one that feels like it drops to your stomach when you see those familiar curls and his dimpled smile when the pretty girl he’s with reacts to his story. The girl who has her hand tightly clasped around his leather jacket as they walk across the close-to-icy pavement. Your head snaps back around when they get closer, and you’re thankful for the poor lighting keeping you mostly hidden until Robin’s hacking up sick again.

“Gross.”

Your eyes screw shut at her words, your body stilling until you hear the front door of the Hideout close behind them both. You’re saved moments later when Steve pulls up right beside you.

“Jesus Christ.” Steve helps you get Robin standing upright again, grimacing at the way her head lolls as you both shuffle her into the passenger seat.

“Pretty sure it was the decision to switch to spiked egg nog to keep the “debauchery festive” that did it.” You sigh, then smirk at Steve’s perplexed look, hands on hips and head shaking. “Just remember you’re moving in with that.”

He winces, “Yeah, you forget the intensity of Robin when you’re not around it that often.”

“You two are going to have so much fun.”

Steve looks at you, eyebrows raising, “I thought it was us three? You change your mind?”

You shrug, biting your lip as he watches you with confusion, “I don’t really know anymore.”

He just nods slowly then, “Okay, that’s–okay. I wasn’t gonna start looking at places until the New Year, so you have a bit of time to decide. We can talk about it later.”

There’s a momentary silence that’s interrupted by Robin mumbling something about getting fries.

“No, we’re going straight home.” Steve shuts the passenger door and squeezes you on the shoulder before walking around to the driver’s seat. You look back at the bar, expecting to see him walk through the door with a cigarette prepared in between his lips, but you quickly get into the car before you get caught.

***

6 days ‘til Christmas

The screaming kid being dragged down the aisle away from the candy does nothing to soothe the headache you’re currently enduring. Nor does the slightly flickering and dim fluorescent lights of the small grocery store, as you struggle to make a decision in front of the potato chips.

You hadn’t slept much, despite your heavy limbs and swimming head when you slipped under the covers on the sofa bed. You couldn’t get the image of him smiling at another girl off your mind.

It had only been a couple of months did he move on that quickly?

Did he know her while you were together? Was she just waiting in the wings? Did something happen between them while you were–no, Eddie wouldn’t do that. But maybe developing feelings for someone else was the catalyst for him breaking it off. God, she was pretty.

Needless to say, your brain is a little fried from the tossing and turning and struggling to make a decision about snack foods. It even takes a moment to register the questioning call of your name behind you.

You turn around.

“I thought that was you darlin’. What a surprise.”

You smile, taking in the worn flannel and pristine trucker’s cap of the older man in front of you.

“Hi, Wayne.”

He embraces you briefly, the scent of a familiar brand of cigarettes stirring a pang in your chest.

“Ed never told me you were coming back for Christmas.”

“Oh, well I didn’t know until about two days ago myself. I’m not sure if he did either.”

“Robin wear you down, did she?”

“Kind of.” You offer him a small smile.

Wayne rubs the grey stubble on his jaw. “You’re welcome to come over again on Christmas day. Whatever happened between you two, you’re always welcome.”

You frown, “That’s really sweet Wayne, but I don’t think he–“

“Hey old man, you want the creamed corn or the regular–“

You make eye contact at the same time. Eddie walks down the small aisle holding up his options, his sneakers squeak when he comes to an abrupt stop.

“Shit. I mean–hi.” He shakes his head quickly.

Wayne crosses his arms, “Christ son, what kind of greeting is that to a lady.”

You burn under the attention of the two, the situation not what you had anticipated when you entered the store. Damn small towns. You didn’t get a good look at him last night, but he looks well. His hair is freshly washed and a little shorter than the last time you’d seen him. He must’ve gotten that trim he kept putting off. But there’s no dimpled smile. Just a look of uncomfortable shock.

“Um, I should get back to Robin,” you hold up the basket in your hands full of sugary hangover food and boxes of Kraft mac and cheese, “she’s feeling a little rough this morning.”

“You two been celebratin’ early?” Wayne smiles.

“Uh,” your gaze flickers to Eddie briefly, “just went to the bar for a few drinks last night, which Robin couldn’t exactly keep down.” You see the realisation hit him in real time, his brows creasing before his eyes widen, turning your attention back to Wayne as he chuckles.

“Well, you better get home quick then.”

“I will. Have a Merry Christmas Wayne.” You hope he doesn’t take offence to the almost grimacing smile you give him, but you can’t muster up anything better given the situation. “See you later, Eddie.” You turn without another glance at him, feeling embarrassment wash over you when you hear a light thump and Wayne’s grumble at Eddie’s complaint.

“Ow.”

“You better get your tongue untwisted next time, son.”

***

He watches the windows of his van frost over quickly after he cuts the engine and the warm air off. They said to expect heavy snow any day now, continuing into the new year. Eddie can’t move his hands away from the steering wheel.

He thought this would be the first time you’d see each other when everyone gathered at the Buckley’s for a Christmas movie night to kick off the festivities. He’d been preparing himself for this moment, even going as far as washing his hair this morning, which he was kind of thankful for given he’d run into you at the grocery store earlier.

You stole his words from him.

Not that you were wearing anything particularly flattering, he’s sure you actually had pyjamas on under your thick coat, in fact you looked a little tired. But, fuck. You always looked beautiful.

And Eddie wasn’t expecting to see you yet, especially not last night at the Hideout. He shakes his head, of course you saw that. He’s sure if there’s some higher power out there controlling his ill-fated life they had a good chuckle about that shining moment.

This was where you were supposed to be reunited, in a controlled environment around friends flowing with the holiday spirit – just like last time. He was going to find a quiet moment to talk to you, to apologise, to explain his cowardice.

Now he couldn’t work up the courage to leave the van.

It’s the banging on the window next to him that startles him out of his trance.

“Dude, what are you doing?”

Despite the teasing, he can’t help but smile at the smirking, still youthful but grown faces of his younger D&D cohort.

“I bet he’s crying to a sad pop song.” Dustin nudges in beside Mike, the window framing them along with Will and Lucas as they all push up against the glass, the condensation not enough to hide their taunting looks.

The door creaks as he opens it, pushing the group away with a wave of his hand and a faux snarl. “Get inside, you little Gremlins.”

He’ll never tire of hearing their collective laughter, even if it’s at his own expense.

He follows the kids up the icy path to the house, ending up in a half-hearted wrestle with Dustin when he asks if it was Joni Mitchell he was listening to. He’s choking out a rendition of River when they tumble through the door with Dustin in a headlock under Eddie’s surprisingly firm biceps.

Your eyes are wide when they stop right in front of you.

“Can I take your jackets?”

Eddie straightens up quickly, his face flushed while the colour quickly drains from Dustin as his air supply returns.

“Uh, sure.”

You hang everyone’s coats up on the hooks in the hallway, and Eddie swears there’s a zap when your fingers brush his as he hands off his leather jacket. You’re wearing a cute Christmas sweater. Not one of those garish over the top ones, just a simple forest green and white knitted thing that makes you look cosy and makes him miss the feeling of your arms wrapped around him. You join the others in the living room off to the side of the hall without another word, leaving him standing there with his party.

“Well that was weirdly formal.” Lucas pats him on the back as he brushes past and the others follow his lead. Eddie sighs, wanting to just turn on his heel and bolt, but more determined to talk to you and encourage you to start looking him in the eyes again.  

You’re separated from him by the group crammed into Robin’s parent’s living room. Bodies spread out across couches and cushions scattered on the floor, some innocent cuddling and even more innocent squabbling. You’re only a few metres away across the other side of the room, but it feels like you’re unreachable to Eddie. He still manages to steal glances at you, laughing along to the conversations, your pretty face lit up by the Christmas tree and the company.

After what feels like hours, he finally gets his moment near the end of the film, his attention drawn to you in the dark as you stand up and make your way to the kitchen alone.

He waits a minute, praying nobody else decides to join you, before rising slowly from his seat nonchalantly walking in the same direction.

He finds you at the sink with a glass of water, looking out the window at the Buckley’s backyard.

“They say it’ll probably snow overnight.”

You jump at his voice, the water in your glass spilling over onto your hand.

“Shit, sorry.” Eddie holds out his hands as if trying to calm a wild animal when you turn around.

“It’s okay, I was just…somewhere else.” You give him a weak smile, drying your hands on a nearby tea towel. He steps a little closer to you when it looks like you’re going to move away.

“I know we have a lot to talk about, but I wanted to clear the air about last night first.”

“We don’t have to talk about anything.” You shrug, still not catching his eye. “It’s not any of my business.”

His chest puffs up under his maroon sweater (the one you like) before he sighs, “She’s the receptionist at the shop. She keeps pestering me to get after work drinks with her.” He scrambles to get to the point when he notices you step towards the door, “She won’t get the hint every time I say no, and she stayed late last night just so I wouldn’t have an excuse. I was just tryna’ get it over with. Show her that we probably have nothing in common and let her down nicely I guess.”

“Eddie, you don’t owe me an explanation just because I saw you.” You smile, finally looking up at him and he hates the insincerity of it, the clouded over eyes that look straight through him. “You can see whoever you want, it’s none of my business.”

He shakes his head, reaching out to you, “I’m not seeing anybody, of course I’m not sweet girl–“ That gets a reaction out of you, and the anger, the lowering of your walls gets Eddie’s heart racing.

“Don’t call me that. You don’t get to call me that anymore.” You’re looking at him now, really looking at him, eyebrows pinched in indignation.

“I want to apologise.”

3 months ago

He felt it coming from a mile off. The way you had an excuse every time you were supposed to come down to Hawkins. The way you switched subjects on the phone whenever he brought up future plans, concerts happening next year, a pay rise that meant he could afford a decent place when Steve inevitably moved out. No matter what everyone would say about his intelligence, Eddie Munson could read the writing on the wall.

So, when you finally caught up after weeks of dodged calls and visits, he had his mind set. Get out before he was pushed out. Be the breaker not the broken.  

“So, Robin and Steve moving to Indy huh?

“Mhm.” He hums in reply as you try to stir up conversation from the kitchen. There’d been an awkward silence ever since he’d walked through the door of your apartment. You watch him sitting on the edge of your couch, a dark cloud hanging over him you were trying to shoo away.

“Didn’t think them being separated would last much longer,” you breathe out a laugh through your nose and he only nods, still distant. Your hands are clammy with nerves, a slight shake to your voice he doesn’t seem to notice. “You know actually, my lease is up next month, I was thinking of moving in with Robin for a while.”

“Your place is nicer.”

You tip your head back and forth, “Yeah, but she has an extra room since her roommate moved out.”

“What are you gonna do when she goes?” His leg starts to bounce, and it’s like his mouth is moving but his mind is elsewhere.

“It’s not until next year…I was thinking maybe, well not maybe, I was just thinking that I would–“

“This isn’t working, right?” His head snaps up and it takes you a moment to answer him under his furrowed gaze.

“It’s…what?”

“I mean, I’m exhausted from all the travelling back and forth and I know you are. Why the hell would you wanna spend your weekends in Hawkins?”

You take a deep breath, “Well, I wanted to talk to you about that–”

“Great let's talk. You can’t keep coming to Hawkins.”

“I–“

“And hell, it’s not exactly like I would move here.”

Oh.

He wouldn’t do the same for you.

“Wayne’s only getting older, and Steve well he’s gonna move to Indy but it’s still close, and Robin will be there, and the kids when they come home. And I can’t just quit my job, you know I’ve got a good steady thing going, and of course you can’t so you know…where does that leave us?”

It leaves you with moving with Robin to Indianapolis. Saying fuck it to your job because you can always find another one. It leaves you with moving in with Eddie because he can find work and still be close to Wayne.

At least, you thought it did, but now…now you feel like a fool in love. Rushing into something unreciprocated, because it hadn’t even been a year, why would he be willing to move away from everything familiar for you?

“Right.”

He sighs, rubbing his face before standing up and walking over to you. “Sweetheart I just don’t see how this can work anymore.”

You try to swallow the dryness in your throat away, “Right.”

“I don’t know how to…” he shakes his head and looks to the door, “Should I go?”

“If you want to.”

“Fuck.” He rubs his face harshly, “I’m sorry. I’ll just go.” He starts to walk away, pivoting quickly to give you a barely there peck on your temple then walking straight out the door with a slam that makes you flinch.

You’re left standing there, shocked into immobility. That wasn’t how you thought that conversation was going to go, but maybe you should have prepared for that. This is what happens when you leave yourself vulnerable.

You wish he’d left a more lasting kiss where you could feel the imprint of it.

“I shouldn’t have left like that. I should’ve called you and properly talked. With you and not at you. I’m so sorry. I’ve had a lot of time to think about it.”

“That’s nice.”

“Sweet–“ he corrects himself and with a breath says your name instead, “I want to apologise.”

You shrug, eyes glazing over again. “It’s whatever Eddie. Maybe I should thank you for having the guts to rip the band-aid off. To say how you felt before–before I made an idiot of myself.”

He frowns, “What do you mean?”

“Don’t worry about it. Let’s just move on and have a good Christmas with everyone.”

Eddie’s shoulders deflate as you walk out of the kitchen.

Maybe his fuck up was truly irreparable this time.

***

3 days ‘til Christmas

The day after movie night had been a girl’s day. Ice skating with El and Max in the centre of town, a light dusting of snow catching on your tongues as you giggled and listened to them gush about their independent lives away from home and the ever-present homesickness this time of year, even when they were with their families. Nancy had met you all after, driving you to the mall for some last-minute Christmas shopping. You’d pulled Dustin’s name for Secret Santa this year and found him some albums on cassette you’d thought he like based on what Eddie had told you he’d enjoyed of his musical teachings.

You waited up for Robin later, who’d spent the day with Steve and Eddie.

The next day, there had been a gingerbread house making competition at the Byers residence. Joyce, her two sons, El, Hopper, Robin, Mike and Steve were all there fighting over the best candy decorations and cheering over the collapse of each other’s creations. The rest were with Eddie at the mall.

Nobody had mentioned it explicitly, but it was clear that everyone was working around the issue of you and the boisterous metalhead by taking it in turns and whispering about who’d be where when. And so it was, that most of your week in Hawkins had gone by without seeing Eddie, except for the run-ins at the Hideout and the grocery store and the awkward conversation at movie night.

You were worried you were bringing the mood down. You’d tried to be comfortable around him for everyone else’s sake, but you mustn’t have been hiding your emotions very well.

So, you’d excused yourself from today’s activities – Christmas tree chopping and decorating at Steve and Eddie’s apartment – feigning a scratchy throat and headache that could only be cured by staying in and resting.

You’d actually ended up leaving the house to find the cute bookstore in town in search of something to keep you company. You’d browsed for over an hour, the comforting smell of the fresh pages of paper, the occasional jingle of the bell above the door as shoppers flowed through the store and the quiet hum of Christmas songs from the radio on the counter all enveloping you in this space of temporary peace.

By the time you leave the store, paper bag weighing one arm down as you button up your coat again, the snow that had been threatening to fall for days had well and truly blanketed the town.

“Oh.” Your voice is carried off in the wind, with the snow that’s falling down sideways. The streets are significantly quieter, the sky darker and the pavements covered.

You’d walked into town from the Buckley’s. It wasn’t particularly far but it seemed like miles in these conditions. You turn around, briefly considering calling someone from inside the store, when the shop owner flips over the sign to closed. Giving you an oblivious wave and smile which you return.

Walking it is then.

***

“I’m an idiot for thinking I could just cut and run. I hate not being able to talk to her. She’s angry, and she deserves to be, but she won’t even let me see that. I just want her to talk to me, be angry at me, yell at me. She’s not her when she’s around me anymore and it kills me. I just–I just want…I don’t know.”

Steve munches on popcorn from the bowl in front of him, while he waits for the fresh batch to stop popping in the microwave. Eddie is holding a bowl of cranberries, slumped against the kitchen table, laughter spilling through from the other room.

“Sounds like you want her back.”

“Not just that,” he shakes his head, “I still think she deserves better I just wish we could still be in each other’s lives.”

Steve crosses his arms, truly ugly Christmas sweater bunched up by his elbows. “What do you mean she deserves better?”

“I couldn’t be there for her most the time. Our relationship was over the phone, I couldn’t hold her back anymore. I spent half my life dreaming of leaving this stupid town and now I’m too chicken shit to do it. She should be with someone in her league you know. At least someone who lives in the same damn city.”

“Wait, wait, wait.” Steve waves his hand around. “Are you telling me you broke up with her because of the distance?”

Eddie looks at him and shrugs, “Yeah. You knew that.”

“No, I didn’t. Anytime I tried to talk to you about it you just kept saying it didn’t work out.” He imitates a deeper, grumpy voice.

Eddie rolls his eyes, “Whatever, man. What difference does it make?”

Steve scoffs, “Indy’s like an hour and a half away, you couldn’t just hang on ‘til she moved?”

“She…what? What the fuck are you talking about?”

“Eddie!” Robin rushes into the kitchen, causing him to straighten up with the look of panic on her face. “You need to find her.”

***

Cold. Cold. Cold.

Never has anybody been this cold in the history of life itself. Cold doesn’t even begin to touch what you’re currently feeling – or not feeling, like your fingers. How long does it take to get frostbite?

You thought you were closer to the Buckley’s, but now all the snow-covered suburban houses looked the same. It didn’t help that all you could think about was the cold! Practically wading through the thick snow as it continued to pelt you side on, your feet burning with blisters or chilblains, you weren’t sure.

Cold. Cold. Cold.

The tyres slip a little as Eddie pulls quickly to the side of the road, easily being able to make out your form despite the blizzard-like conditions camouflaging everything. You were wearing that pink beret you looked adorable in.

He leaves the engine running as he jumps out, almost slipping on a patch of ice when he grabs you by the arms. He has to yell over the wind, your body trembling underneath his gloved hands, not even able to speak.

Eddie gently maneuvers you back to the van, helping you up into the passenger seat. He blasts the heat even more once he’s behind the steering wheel, reaching behind him and procuring a blanket which he tucks around you, rubbing your arms for good measure.

“Just sit tight sweetheart, I’ll get you home.”

He peels off slowly from the curb, wipers screeching in complaint against the window as he struggles with visibility.  

“It’s l-like we’re d-d-destined to repeat this scene ovver again. You evver see the movie g-groundhog day?”

His head snaps to you and he smiles, happy to hear your voice.

“I’ll always be there to find you in the snow.”

“It’s probably best I just stop coming all together.” You’ve thawed enough to stop chattering now, shifting to tuck yourself further into the blanket.

He frowns, “Don’t say that. Everyone wants you here.”

“I’m just making it harder for you to be with your friends.”

He shakes his head, eyes flicking between you and the road. “That’s not true.”

“Then why is everyone trying to keep us apart?”

“I think they were just trying to help you feel comfortable sweetheart.”

“Wouldn’t you rather I wasn’t here?”

Eddie looks at you in disbelief, before the van lurches and his attention pulls back in front of him.

“Shit, shit, shit.” The engine stutters as he rolls to the side of the road and cranks the handbrake.

“What’s going on?”

He sighs, “We’re out of gas.”

“What?!” You lean over the middle, peering at the dashboard and the blinking red light. “How can you be out of gas?”

“Because I was supposed to fill up the next time I went out and I’ve been driving around looking for you!” You shrink back into your seat. “Sorry, it’s not your fault.”

“I know it isn’t. What grown man leaves it until the light comes on.” A smirk pulls at his lips which grows even wider when he catches you mirroring him.

“This idiot.” He points two thumbs at himself.

“Should we find a payphone to call a tow truck?” You peer out the window, unable to make out much of your surroundings.

Eddie groans and hits his head repeatedly on the steering wheel.

“What?”

“I’m the one on call tonight,” he mumbles.

“Oh. You probably should’ve just brought the truck then.”

“Yep,” he leans back in the seat, rolling his head to look at you. “I wasn’t really thinking things through. You scared me, sweetheart.”

“Sorry,” you whisper, and he offers you a small smile. “How did you know I was out here anyway?”

“Robin called her parent’s house to check in on you. Her dad said you’d gone out for a walk, but you hadn’t come back since the snow started.”

“Right. Thank you for finding me.”

He shrugs, “Like I said. I always will.”

You watch each other for a moment and Eddie’s eyes drop to your lips making a shiver run through your body.

It breaks him from his trance, “Sweetheart, we need to stay warm.” He looks over his shoulder at the back of the van, unbuckling his seatbelt and squeezing between the gap in seats. “C’mon.”

You follow him unquestioningly and he helps you with a hand on your arm. He notices the look on your face when he brings out another blanket and some pillows from a picnic basket among a small mess of boxes and junk he’d thrown back here without thought.

“They’re still in here from that time we went to Lover’s Lake. Haven’t used them since, obviously.” You offer a nod, taking the pillows and arranging them next to each other. Eddie throws the other blanket over the both of you, “Uh, we’re gonna have to get kind of close to–to stay warm.”

“Okay.”

He opens an arm out, waiting for you to slot in and pulling you both down to the floor. You breathe in his scent, a musky cigarette and peppermint enveloping you. Pure, Eddie. You’re both quiet for a while, the steady drum of his heartbeat against your ear. He sighs, and his breath shifts your hair a little, followed by his hand when he notices something.

“You’re wearing the earrings.” His hushed voice vibrating in your head makes you close your eyes.

“I love them,” you whisper back. “They make me feel a little less alone, which doesn’t make sense I know.” You feel Eddie’s lips press against your hair.

“I’m sorry sweet girl. I made a huge mistake.” Your arms squeeze him tighter, and his hand strokes the side of your face.

Eddie begins humming a tune, featherlight at first but the vibrations from his chest warm you up further.

“It was Christmas Eve, babe

In the drunk tank

An old man said to me, “Won’t see another one”

And then he sang a song

“The Rare Old Mountain Dew”

I turned my face away

And dreamed about you”

“Don’t make me sing the duet. You know I can’t sing.” You feel his smile against the side of your head.

“Then just whisper it back.”

You sigh, “You were handsome.”

“You were pretty, Queen of New York City. When the band finished playing, they howled out for more.”

After a while Steve eventually found you. Pulling up in his new truck and bursting the bubble with a loud honk. He took you both back to the apartment where everyone fussed over you, bringing hot chocolate and a hot water bottle as they finished off decorating the tree. After Eddie placed the star on top, he led you to his bedroom to find dry clothes.

You turned his gaze back to you when you undressed, kissing him once he helped you into one of his t-shirts; his Slayer one he so loved to see you in. You swayed back and forth for a moment before returning to the mayhem, the snow still falling heavily outside the window.

“Merry Christmas, sweet girl.”

He kissed your eyelids.

“Merry Christmas, Eddie.”

***

Christmas Eve

You’d actually fallen ill after that night, the snow-soaked clothes and below zero conditions culminating in a cough and a sore body. Eddie kept you in his bed and brought you cups of tea and soup.

Steve filled in for him when he went to tow his own van, and you threw a pillow at him when he said, “Aren’t you glad we dragged you down here now?”

By Christmas Eve you were feeling a little better, able to join in on the Secret Santa shenanigans, tucked under Eddie’s arm on the sofa. Dustin loved his tapes and gave you an awkward pat on the knee in lieu of a hug that could transfer germs. “I can’t afford the time off from school!”

You’re watching everyone’s interactions with each other, showing off presents, sharing stories, when Eddie untucks a red envelope from his back pocket.

“Merry Christmas.”

You beam at him, opening the card. Something falls into your lap. You pick up newspaper clippings with a confused furrow of your brow Eddie wants to kiss away.

They’re listings, for apartments in Indianapolis.

“Thought I’d beat Steve and Robin and steal you for myself. What do you think, roomie?”

You kiss him in response, leaning away when neither of you can keep your smiles from growing.

“Oh, I left your gifts at Robin’s.”

Eddie tilts his head, “You got me something?”

“Just some things I came across and put aside throughout the year. A couple of records, and this book I think you’ll like, and a new notebook ‘cause you’re always losing pages out of that black one.”

“You brought them with you?”

You shrug, “Yeah, well I figured I could just leave it under your tree and you’d think someone else got them.”

“I’d know it was you.” He smiles.

“Probably.”

He presses a kiss to your jaw, a bright flash distracting you behind your eyelids.

“Got ya.” Robin snatches the Polaroid from the camera’s slit, shaking it a couple of times before handing it to you with a wink.

It’s the perfect moment of contentment. Sharing a blanket on the sofa, eyes closed in peace, framed by the Christmas lights hanging on the wall.

It’s the first photo to be pinned on your fridge in your shared home.

Tagging: @bettyfrommars, @storiesbyrhi, @allthingsjoeq, and from last year @eddieslooneymoonie, @micheledawn1975 and @skrzydlak just in case x

[coraniaid]

The scene where Willow confronts Faith is Choices is kind of fascinating to me, because ... well.

I like Choices quite a lot, and I think Willow's dislike of Faith is perfectly understandable and in character (and her speech has some fun but probably not intentional foreshadowing for later seasons), but it's hard not to notice that the narrative expects you to be rather more unambiguously on Willow's side than I think is really warranted.

I mean, Willow might not have been the most popular girl in high school, but she has multiple close friends, a nice boyfriend, a stable [and fairly comfortably middle-class] home life, she "represents the pinnacle of achievement in Sunnydale High" in the words of her school's principal, she's trusted enough to teach at the school, in a year she'll be able to go to any college she wants (and, unlike some people, she can afford to go anywhere she wants), she used to hack into government computer databases (before she ever met Buffy!) and now she's teaching herself dark magic "for fun" and she hasn't [yet] ever suffered any real repercussions for either of those things.

On the other hand, from what little we hear about Faith's past we know she grew up poor and that her mother used to get drunk and beat her, that she didn't have any friends and dropped out of high school young, she is very strongly implied on multiple occasions to have been the victim of some pretty horrific abuse before being called as a Slayer, and after being called as a Slayer she got to watch the one adult who ever told her she mattered get killed horribly in front of her before fleeing across the country to a town where she doesn't know anybody, still has no friends, doesn't have a job or go to school and lives alone in a motel in the bad part of town. And when she accidentally killed a man, while trying to do the whole slaying vampires thing she's supposed to be doing, the Watcher's Council -- who never actually bothered to send her a new Watcher of her own -- decided to have her abducted and dragged away to England [a fate which surely nobody deserves].

Yet a part of Willow clearly thinks (and almost outright says) "oh, well, yeah, but she hangs out with Buffy sometimes when I don't get to and she slept with the guy -- not my nice boyfriend! -- who I used to have a crush on (and who I was briefly cheating on said boyfriend with), so it's clearly impossible to say which of us really had things worse and I don't need to feel sorry for her". And -- again, while this is great characterisation for Willow -- it's kind of hard not to notice that the writers think she has a compelling point.

Yes, sure, Faith has defected to working for the Mayor and has a knife drawn on Willow this scene (she's not anything like a blameless victim at this point of the story) and it takes a certain level of physical bravery for Willow to stand up for herself despite that. But ... I mean, come on. "You had friends like Buffy" is only true if you accept it to mean "you had exactly one friend, who was Buffy". "It's way too late" for Faith to seek forgiveness ... how many people has Faith killed at this point? One, by mistake? Giles has killed more people than that. "Some people think you had a lot of bad breaks?" Yeah, actually in Faith's shoes I'd want to hit Willow after she said that too.

I realize that part of the show's central thesis -- something that explicitly came up as recently as Earshot -- is the idea that everybody, regardless of how comfortable their life might seem from the outside, has their own sorrow and pain and (only occasionally metaphorical) demons to fight. But while that's not entirely wrong, it's also ... not entirely complete? Everyone has it bad sometimes, but some people really do have it worse than others. Pretending otherwise is ... not a serious position to take.

Willow's life could be better, but she's not gone through anything like Faith has. I'd argue she literally can't imagine how bad Faith's life has been. She really doesn't have as much moral authority as the show's writers think she has at this point.

[Compare this part of Season 3 with the first half of Season 6, when the show is overflowing with sympathy for Willow's abrupt descent into magic addiction but has no sympathy at all for Amy Madison, whose own magic addiction is just implied to be because she's inherently a Bad Person who Willow needs to avoid and whose own horrific past and abusive mother and complete lack of support system is just entirely forgotten about. Or, indeed, to the weird take of Dead Man's Party, which has Buffy apologize to Willow for ... what? Having problems of her own that don't revolve around Willow? Being too busy mourning the loss of everything she ever cared about to tell Willow how uniquely special and amazing she was for learning rudimentary magic? Not being grateful enough for Willow restoring Angel's soul without bothering to ask Buffy if that was something she still wanted her to try?]

So, the overall effect is ... yeah, it's a good scene. But it's almost a good scene despite the writer's intentions, not because of them. It's much less of an ambiguously triumphant moment for WIllow than I believe we're meant to read it as.

[horseforeplay]

So I’m very autistic about music and I loved how succession made Kendall’s music taste have so much character and be so accurate to who he is and who he thinks he is, which made me start thinking about the other siblings listening to music. I just cannot imagine it. I can’t imagine Roman putting on his little AirPod and opening up a Spotify playlist or putting on posters in his room for a certain thing. The idea of shiv being into drill and grime is extremely funny to me. I think connor tells Alexa to put on slow old Spanish ballads blasting (at an appropriate volume) through every floor of his desert house and Willa wears noise cancelling headphones constantly. I just can’t decide if Roman has an obscenely normal man music taste (like what plays in gyms) or if he actually cares about music. And then I listened to horse foreplay again and I need to make a playlist for it so basically: what do you think Roman would listen to?

incredible message. oh man. for one, connor genuinely seems like a music lover because that’s in line with his situation being the only sibling to genuinely enjoy the spoils of wealth and just stuff generally. he also has that fleetwood mac line at tom’s bachelor party, and famously karaokes a fucking leonard cohen song. love him.

kendall’s music taste is central to his character, we all know what ken’s taste is (or at least i think we do, i have seen some very funny “ken listens to this” mixes. they should resemble the intern-curated obama end-of-year picks LOL). shiv i have no idea about, but i wouldn’t be surprised if she had some appreciation for whatever dad liked if dad ever bothered to point something out. i don’t think she listens to florence + the machine though be serious you guys just see a girl with red hair…………….

my personal read on roman’s whole Deal is that he has the least “life of his own” of the siblings. even his reputation / the rumors about him (that he’s a playboy who loves coke) are the least accurate to his actual behavior and preferences (esp when contrasted with ken’s public takedowns which hurt his feelings precisely Because they’re often true). it’s difficult for me to imagine roman having strong personal taste in….. pretty much anything, even when he sees his choices symbolically (“i want steak” speech in america decides). in the end, roman is most interested in cultivating an image of himself that is going to be the most protective of his true desire for authenticity and connection, but we know that he has no idea what to do with himself when he is confronted with an opportunity to actually “express himself”.

all this to say, it is very difficult for me to imagine roman sincerely enjoying music/art without a level of detachment, irony, or jokey judgement. if he likes certain sounds, i couldn’t see him singing along like kendall in the backseat. maybe a handful of songs are nostalgic for him, maybe some post-hardcore (…. fugazi….. honestly……) or even MAYBE some britpop or eurodance from the european half of his childhood. he wouldn’t allow himself true sentimentality with it though. he certainly knows all of the lyrics to a few songs bc he’s very In the World, esp culturally impactful songs, but he just seems like a guy who fucking hates bohemian raphsody. he knows who the pinball wizard is but i can viscerally feel his frown at hearing the baba o’reilly opener in a shop. he simply would never admit to loving a band, let alone buy a t-shirt! (i think i get a little annoyed generally with assumptions about roman that cast him as even a little bit twee just because he’s silly. look at how he actually dresses. this man would not paint his nails or have a charm on his phone. you’re thinking of kieran culkin!)

anyway this is my fav horse foreplay fanmix by @gotouda just bc it’s bursting with songs that are simply About Romtom. full of stuff me a young millennial gay person listens to so i play it a lot lol. there’s also an unsettled/upsetting undercurrent to some of these choices that matches the tone of the fic PRECISELY!!!! i have no idea how someone would go about building a mix based on romtom AND character taste just bc it is nigh impossible for me to picture roman roy listening to a song BECAUSE it reminds him of tom.

tom on the other hand…………….. that’s elton john, that’s ABBA, that’s broadway original cast recording, that’s george michael, that’s adele. ok

[frogsndogs]

So recently I watched this pilot short: Epilogue of endings. It’s about 12 minutes long, created by a group of animation students over a single summer. I had never heard of the project before it showed up in my youtube recommended.

It changed my brain chemistry. I watched it 9 days ago and I can’t stop thinking about it to save my life. The music? Spectacular. The voice acting? Perfect. The art? astounding. The characters? I’m already emotionally attached. Hotel? Trivago.

Listen, I don’t tend to watch of a lot of things anymore unless I’m with other people, and I have this weird thing about engaging in new media, I think because a lot of what I’ve been watching recently has been kinda disappointing, or very… I don’t know… it’s hard to describe. It just feels like a lot of studios are making characters shallower, relationships strained, and half-assing their world building. A lot of media that I’ve taken in recently is trying very hard to make itself seem edgy and serious and that’s not what I want right now and definitely not what I need.

But this 12 minute pilot? This is everything I never knew I needed. The characters feel like real people, with complex motivations and interpersonal relationships. They’re flawed, but they’re trying their best with the situation that they have. They have things, other people that they care about and would fight for, they have motivations and backstories that you can see the breadcrumbs of, but have not been revealed yet, and the breadcrumbs are so good you can’t wait for the whole loaf. The world-building is exquisite, built up enough that you can see the beginning, but still drawing you in with more questions. 

I have a more detailed review under the cut, with SPOILERS, but I highly recommend that you go watch the pilot. It’s 12 minutes of time well spent in my opinion.

So the first scene. We’re introduced to Lucy, Blu and CG. I think Blu is already my fav, lol. In this scene, we see the three characters playing eye-spy while walking through a forest. It’s a pretty innocuous scene if we didn’t pan up to the sky and see the sun having broken open and Lucy becoming emotional over having to leave town, and presumably the rest of her life behind. Blu doesn’t answer her.

So Lucy clearly doesn’t know what’s going on, and I’m wondering if Blu has limited information himself. Maybe even Blu doesn’t know why or how any of this is happening. Maybe Blu literally can’t answer her question because he doesn’t have the answers. Maybe it hurts, being so helpless and out of control, so he’s in denial to a certain extent, trying to pretend that everything is fine. He’s trying to keep this little girl, happy and safe and alive, while also presumably dealing with his own shit, and no he’s not doing it perfectly, he’s flawed, as people and characters should be, but he’s trying and so far she is alive and safe to a certain extent so way to go Blu! I think this will probably cause some tension between the two down the road, but for now they just keep walking.

I wonder where they’re going, if anywhere specific? Why did they leave town specifically, we see there’s lots of danger pretty much everywhere, did something happen?

Anyways, then we get to this scene of someone fixing what appears to be a subway train. He stops, pulls out a journal and we get some exposition stuff. We find out that the world ended, and how. And WOW. This whole thing was gut-punchingly realistic I feel. People blowing up the competition trying to race off into space when it’s announced that the sun is going to die out? That’s something that unfortunately I can see people doing. I wonder/hope that this will become a plot point again later on, and we’ll find out what happened to all those people. But anyways that’s not even the craziest part; the fact the sun broke open and released a whole bunch of eldritch horror monsters??? Yep here we go. And then the next thing hurts. Like a lot. Because the narrator says that ‘people who hoped to live out their last days in normalcy quickly found out that their life-style was no longer sustainable’. That shit made me want to cry. The want for a peaceful death, a calm death, a painless death, but having even that ripped away from you. This setting that these characters are in is awful and very terrifying, and we can see how it is hurting them, torturing them, but I got to give props to the world building. It’s good writing. They set up the plot, the problem, what’s been going on the past couple yrs, some mysteries, to both the viewers and the characters, and in doing so give us some idea of the characters that we do have. Because the characters that we do have are trapped. The characters that we do have are abandoned. The characters that we do have are survivors. 

And then we pan out to see the narrator having an interaction with one of the Monarchs. And this scene? Gave me chills, man. I was so creeped out by this. Acedia’s ‘I do not like that response,’ Mole’s utter helplessness to do anything, his clear, potent fear of the creature, the way that it just lightly touches him and he flinches. Then the frustration that we see on his face after it leaves, the anger that turns into tiredness and then hopelessness? Someone needs to wrap this man in a blanket stat.

And this is where I’m starting to think that Blu doesn’t really know the full extent of what’s going on. There’s a good chance that Mole knows about the Monarchs because he’s being held prisoner by one. It’s possible that Mole is seeing the world collapse before his very eyes, while Blu is just seeing the aftermath and not knowing why and I can’t say which is more terrifying.

The ‘I have influence?’ line is peak. I love it so much, I can’t even say why. That whole little interaction with Lucy saying that she takes after Blu, Blu being so genuinely touched and CG being low-key offended is perfect and I love it. It shows how close they are, how much they care about each other.

The the… zombie ppl??? I love the detail of how unlike a lot of teenage protagonists, Lucy listens to Blu, and gets out of danger. She trusts him to handle the situation on his own, and knows that the best thing that she can do right now is get to safety. There’s an implicit trust there, in spite of her clear issues with Blu not telling her things, and this is what I’m talking about when I say the character relationships are complex.

Oh fuck. The transitions? The way that it cuts from one character to another, each unintentionally completing one another’s scentences, and unknowingly engaging in conversation. It’s amazing storytelling, an amazing presentation and for some reason it just confirms to me that these characters are family. They fit together like puzzle pieces. I don’t know what else to say.

We get more info on our mysterious narrator, Mole, who is an amnesiac, and clearly going through it. During this scene we see a crumpled newspaper of what seems to be a younger version of him, winning an award for his dedication at being a subway motorman. His name is crossed out in black ink, so we can’t see it. Which makes me question, did he do this to himself? Is his amnesia a trauma response to everything he’s going through? Did something happen to the point that his brain decided shutting down and forgetting everything was better than remembering this one thing? And it hurts, because in the picture in the newspaper he looks so happy. So young. So alive. It’s a stark contrast to the man we see with bags under his eyes, talking to himself and becoming increasingly distressed. I read through the article, and again, props to the team, some other people might have just did random letters or whatever but they put in a whole ass-story, giving the viewers more info about Mole than even he has. We know he was a dedicated subway motorman. We know he was inspired by his father. We know he had a sister. But these answers only serve to bring up more questions? What happened to his sister? Was his father still alive at the time of he end of the world and what was their relationship like? Because there’s a chance that their relationship was really good, and that’s why he went on to become a subway motorman, but there is also the possibility that he was pressured into doing so, and the way that he complains about being on a train when the world ended makes me kinda lean towards that option.

Then we see CG and Lucy walking around the underground tunnels and we get more info on them. We find out that CG was created by Lucy’s mom, which begs the question of where is Lucy’s mom???? What happened to her? Is there a chance that she’s still alive? Does Lucy know what happened to her mother?? Or is this just another thing that Blu is keeping her in the dark about? Does Blu know what happened to Lucy’s mother???? Or— as you can see I am totally normal about this woman. Anyways.

CG is a fun character, optimistic and bringing a lighter atmosphere to the show, but there is just something… off about her in this scene. The disregard for the danger, the naiveté, the joyful voice in such a horrible situation, feels so wrong to me. I wonder though if CG chose to be like this, or a certain amount of it is her programming? Does CG know what happened to Lucy’s mom? I think CG was created to be take care of Lucy but it seems to be the other way around here, why is that? 

And then we get info on Blu. Blu was a solider during the war when ppl were trying to get all the resources to race off into space. I wonder if Blu had believed that he would be granted a place on one of these ships. (If he managed to survive of course.) Or had he been in the military prior to all this, and was just pulled along? This makes me want to know more about his belief system before and after the end of the world. Also it is implied by CG that Blu is carrying a lot of pressure, and I wonder how that will be dealt with later on… hmm… 

Also the music that plays when Blu uses his arms to pull down the wall? Amazing, I love it, I love the scene, I love the fact that he’s a cyborg, I am so invested in these characters already it’s killing me.

Then we see Mole almost (accidentally) kill Lucy and CG. He’s out of it, he’s the only person running the trains, he didn’t expect to have to watch out for anyone, I think that we can give him a pass on this. Blu doesn��t think so obviously.

(Sidenote: the way that Lucy curls into Blu, as he protectively shields her is so cute, my heart, help)

Blu is pissed. His tone doesn’t change too much, it’s light, but there’s this threatening undertone there that kinda creeps me out. Mole tells them he doesn’t have a name, before Blu forces him to tell them that its Mole. Wait… is he called that bc Moles live underground? Anyways, Blu wants to leave him to die there, which shows an interesting side of his character. Prior to this we’ve seen him take a protective, fun role as Lucy’s guardian but here we see this apathy towards someone who is obviously not doing so well. A lot of other people would be excited to find another living person in the apocalypse, but he’s fine just walking away. Is this just because he almost killed Lucy? Or is there something more going on here? In Blu’s bio on the rainbott instagram, it says that Blu was ‘left to die in a mysterious incident’ and it’s interesting that he feels fine leaving someone else to die in such horrible conditions. Again - complex character writing, props to the team.

But Lucy doesn’t want to leave him. This shows her compassion and maybe too her want for connection with other people. Blu resists; ‘Lucy that is the most unimpressive man I have ever seen,’ this line has no right to be so funny, esp with Mole just staring at him in the background. Did he hear that or is he too far away, too out of it? Then he relents, perhaps solely because of Lucy, or maybe also because of his own want to do the right thing. He doesn’t like Mole, he makes that obvious, but if Lucy want’s to adopt this strange hobo man, fine, if it makes her happy. He’ll do whatever it takes to make Lucy a little more happy.

Mole’s ‘it doesn’t want me to leave’ scares the shit out of me, and the way that he just freezes up when Acedia shows up… 

The scene when it talks about humans really creeps me out, and makes me worried even more about Mole. Calling him ‘entertaining’ and saying that he ‘belongs’ to them. It sounds like it sees him as a toy at best, and reminds me of the way that Mole said earlier that the Monarchs had the power to ‘turn Earth into their own personal sandbox’. Did Acedia get rid of Mole's memories for that purpose? So that he would 'belong' only to them. I wonder though, why Mole, and if there were others, if Mole had to watch those around him die, or worse when they gave an answer that it didn’t like. I wonder what Mole has had to do to scrape by and survive, what he’s been through. But Blu pulls him along anyways, kind of against Mole’s will. Like obviously being with Blu, Lucy and CG is better than being with a horrifying shadow monster, but aforesaid horrifying shadow monster is going to be pissed at him. I wonder how he’s going to react to that, if he’ll lash out at Blu or worse, Lucy for rescuing him because now it’s gonna be angry and he’s gonna have to be the one to deal with the fallout of that.

Then the scene where Blu pretends to buy tickets to appease CG? It’s for comedic relief, but again it makes me think about Blu. Is he doing it because he knows CG will be annoying if he doesn’t? Or does he genuinely not want her to be hurt? I’m not sure. 

Then the campfire scene. Lucy looks away when Blu removes his mask, Mole tries to lean in to see what’s behind it. Blu doesn’t like this, I assume it’s a sensitive subject, but Mole is again, kind of out of it. Mole is scared of Blu and Blu clearly knows this, even kinda uses it to freak him out. I’m looking forwards to see that relationship developing, maybe one that contrasts Mole’s relationship with Acedia, I dunno, someone who cares about him in this really twisted way that hurts him, and someone who at first doesn’t care at all(at first), but still takes care of him in spite of it. I dunno… just vibes.

And Lucy’s little ‘what if we tell ghost stories around the fire’ breaks my heart. It’s like she too, is in denial to a certain extent. This is just a fun camping trip not the end of the world. Everything is fine. Everything will be fine.

Then the post-credit scene. There’s presumably, something left of the government that is working to try and deal with the Monarchs, which gives me hope that there might be a way to stop them, a way to stop all this death and destruction. I am curious about what’s left of this order, what the gov was like during the war, and how they’re operating now. Also the way the commander calls the droid C21, and the way that CG is called CG, and the way that he says ‘find the girl’ and C21 frowns and does this have something to do with Lucy’s mom??????? What does any of this have to do with Lucy? Does she know more than she’s letting on, or does not even she know what she knows??? Help I need answers.

Also all the characters in the credits. I desperately hope that they find the main cast and all become friends pls.

CG’s little song is beautiful and I think that it embodies the heart of the show. Like I said earlier a lot of the stuff I’ve watched recently tries very hard to be dark and edgy and a dystopian show where all the characters have been trapped and abandoned and tortured is the perfect setup for some grim and gritty TV. But it’s… not. The characters are funny and lighthearted and smiling in spite of all the shit that’s going on around them. The characters are trying to be nice, to be good. They are connected, they are a family. It is a dystopian setting for sure, but I think that the story is about family, about love and caring for each other. The story is about Blu, Lucy and CG playing eye-spy. The story is about Lucy smiling when she tells Blu her mom said he was a bad influence. The story is about CG wanting Blu to get some rest and take a break. The story is about Mole’s desperate panic at trying to stop the train before it hits Lucy, and Lucy not wanting to leave him to die. The story is about four people sitting around a fire, listening to music.

I really love this story, and I hope to see more of it one day. It’s really beautiful.

[houndfaker]

I really think the ship is cute I've been messaging my friends about it!

How does Elise react when Kotone describes the situation in her world... And perhaps the members of Team Sonic?

THAT MAKES ME SO HAPPY TO HEAR AW LOL ive gotten super unhinged about it super fast so seeing the enthusiasm for it really means the world 🥺

this is a bit of a tricky question because i think it depends on Which point in p3’s story that the details come out but ill give the best answer i can

so generally speaking (partially for the sake of how i want things to pan out) i actually don’t imagine team sonic getting too deeply involved with kotone; she knows them and is friends with them for sure! but im not sure she’d confide in them about all the stuff going on with her, at least not beyond a vague explanation about how the whole persona thing works. even with that in mind, though, i think they, or at the very least sonic himself, can gather that she’s got a lot on her shoulders. being sonic, he’s pretty loose about it, but he encourages her where he can. he knows what it’s like.

elise on the other hand i think is someone that insists on carrying the weight of kotone’s problems with her if she can

(sidebar: since this is post-06 being deleted from the timeline, i imagine that although she doesn’t remember what happened, the Feeling of what she learned from the time she spent with sonic sticks with her and so elise is a much more emboldened person when she meets kotone; it’s a little bit of why the comics ive been doodling center around a lot of elise making spontaneous moves where she’s honest with how she feels)

if we’re going by earlier on, i think it’s a bit run of the mill to elise even if the concept of tartarus and the dark hour are rather whimsical. kotone and her friends are essentially parallel to the heroes of elise’s reality; those who fight back against the mad genius doctor eggman and his droves of mischievous machines are like sees who fight back against these ‘shadows’ that prowl the night. i think a big point of attachment between them is that she and kotone are both in serious leadership positions as teenagers.

and if we’re going by ‘post-ryoji explaining the end of all things’, although it takes quite a bit of time to get kotone to the point where she feels comfortable enough to unload any of her baggage on a single other person she cares so much for, i feel the mounting stress of the approaching fall of humanity all but forces her to come clean because she just can’t hold onto it all by herself anymore, she doesn’t Want to for once in her life. she thinks elise has a right to know as one of the few people in her life whos aware of What she does when the clock strikes 12.

and, understandably, elise feels…helpless. again, these phantom emotions from a timeline that’s been wiped, where she faces the end of a world and the fear that someone she cares so much about will be lost forever. there’s some of that desperate selfishness elise has shown briefly in the past, the idea that maybe kotone can bring the people of tatsumi port through her warp ring and let them seek refuge in soleanna. save a small portion of that world, at least, from what sounds like certain doom. but she knows it’s an absurd idea. and kotone can’t see it as anything but running away when she wants to fight harder than ever before.

elise would have to contend with her overwhelming need to protect kotone, that gnawing in her heart making her want to cling and never let go, keep the same devastating thing she can’t seem to remember (the loss of sonic, the loss of her Memories with sonic) from happening to her a second time. she’d have to accept that kotone is going to fight the world’s end no matter what. even if it costs her life. it’s so unfair. but it’s also part of what made her fall in love with that girl. she wants to fight for their lives so badly that she’d challenge the supposed inevitable.

that’s all ill say for now i think 🙏 i hope it’s a decent answer haha ive been thinking about these two really really hard

[densi-mber]

He Plays the Violin

If someone had told 20 year old Marty Deeks that one day he would be sitting on the couch with his girlfriend, watching a rebroadcast of a symphony, he would have scoffed. Yet here he sat, happily doing just that. It had taken a little coaxing to convince Kensi, but now she seemed enthralled by the performance.

During a particularly lively version of Rhapsody in Blue, Kensi nudged his shoulder with her elbow. “You know, something you’ve never shown me—?”

“Can’t be much at this point,” Deeks interrupted, speaking over the music. “I’m pretty sure I’ve shown you everything I’ve got.” He winked at Kensi, just in case she didn’t get the innuendo.

“Yes, it’s very impressive,” Kensi said, pausing to give him a once over. “That’s not what I’m talking about though. It’s something more skill-based.”

“Oh, I’ve got all kinds of skills.” Deeks grinned at Kensi’s groan.

“Deeks, stop it.”

Shifting to face her, he adopted a serious expression. “Sorry, go on.”

Inhaling shallowing, Kensi pressed her palms together. He couldn’t imagine what was about to say.

“Remember when you mentioned taking violin lessons?” she asked.

“Yeeees. Why?”

“Well, this concert reminded me that you’ve never played for me.”

“Kensi—”

“Baby, please?”

“I’m not that good,” Deeks protested, even as Kensi looked at him pleadingly. “I haven’t had a lesson in years.”

“But you’ve played since then, right?”

“Yeah,” he admitted reluctantly. Smoothing her hand up through his hair, Kensi cupped one of his cheeks.

“Hey, I won’t push it anymore if you really don’t want to, but I would really love to hear you play,” she said, which was remarkably convincing.

“Fine.” Sighing, Deeks pushed himself off the couch, heading for his bedroom. He felt Kensi’s eyes on him the entire way.

Even though he didn’t play regularly, he still kept his violin in good condition and stored it along with some other fragile items in his closet. When he came out a few minutes later with the violin tucked under his arm and the bow in his other hand, Kensi sat up, clapping her hands together in delight.

Deeks gave her a wry look, tucking a leg under him as he sat down. He plucked a couple strings, lowering his head in concentration. He spent a several minutes tuning the strings, adjusting the little knobs on either side. When he was reasonably satisfied with the sound, he turned to face Kensi again, and found her watching him.

“To reiterate, it’s been a few years since I even touched this, so listen at your own risk,” he warned Kensi one final time, tucking the violin under his chin, and bringing the bow up.

He chose a piece he’d taught himself in high school. The first few drags of the bow across the strings were a little rough, but he quickly fell into the rhythm, relaxing as motor memory took over. He closed his eyes, leaning into the emotion of the music, letting certain notes swell while other were softer and more subtle.

He played the final note, drawing the bow back slowly to end, and opened his eyes again. Kensi stared back at him, her lips slightly parted, her expression stunned.

“Sorry, guess I got a little caught up in the music,” he said, feeling oddly embarrassed. “My teacher always complained about that. Didn’t remember the audience.”

“No, Deeks, that was—that was beautiful,” Kensi quickly assured him. “I’ve never heard that song before.”

“It’s called “Ashokan Farewell”.

“It’s beautiful.” She leaned forward suddenly, cupping his face as she kissed him fervently. Deeks moved the violin out of crushing range. When Kensi pulled back, there was a fiery gleam in her eyes. “That was one of the sexiest things I’ve ever seen,” she told him, fingers slowly, but sure,y moving down his chest.

“Yeah, Mrs. Kayler definitely never said that,” he joked, a little breathless with Kensi’s unexpected response.

Sliding off the couch, Kensi took his hand, tugging him with her. Deeks started to set the violin to the side, but she shook her head.

“No, bring it with,” she said, guiding him back towards his bedroom.

***

A/N: “Ashokan Farewell” is a piece written by Jay Ungar and featured in several of Ken Burns’ documentaries.

Title taken from the song of the same name from the musical “1776”.

[starry-blue-echoes]

Ok so serious ask au this time I feel like Jotaro definitely would not get married and settle down in the vampire Jotaro au. Maybe his brain also doesn't age (along with the trauma of becoming a vampire) so he's stuck in his teenage angst. He tries hard to feel normal so he does go and become a marine biologist but he never gets married, never has jolyne, and is overall still very angry. He won't mellow out as quick

-ffa

you're sort of correct, with some bits at least

(also just to make things easier, I'm going to be calling Jolyne's mom Marina)

Jolyne was actually brought up in this AU a while back, and while Jotaro doesn't get married, Jolyne does still exist. However, he has no idea she does. He had a....... not quite a one night stand with Marina(who was an exchange student), but they met one night, hung out for a couple weeks, Did The Thing, then Jotaro had a bit of a mental breakdown of self loathing and stopped coming to see her. It wasn't until she got back to America at which she realized she was pregnant, and because Jotaro never gave her any information about his family name or where he lived, with her limited resources she wasn't able to find him again

Jotaro has no idea he has a daughter, and honestly when he does learn about her existence? He feels unbelievably shitty about not having been there for her. That because of his selfish reckless actions, Jolyne had to grow up without a father and without knowing what she was. He also feels bad about leaving Marina to take this burden blind (not Jolyne, she could never be a burden, but Marina had nothing to work off of when it came to raising a half vampire) and decides he's going to do everything he can to make up for his absence by helping any way he can

Jolyne's childhood is...... a bit weird honestly. Sure there's the fact Marina was trying to figure out how to be a single mother but also there's her trying to figure out the whole vampire thing. Seeing Jolyne grow up with all her little quirks combined with certain traits she'd noticed of Jotaro's makes the pieces come together rather quickly, and suddenly Jotaro's apprehension toward getting close makes a LOT more sense. She's still pretty upset he ghosted her like that, but at least there's some semblance of an explanation

raising Jolyne was a lot of trial and error. Most "information" about vampires was completely off the mark. Jolyne doesn't have any issue with religious items, garlic, or silver, she can't turn into a bat or fly, or really any of the other extensive rules and traits of vampires. Honestly the only things that seemed to line up were Jolyne being a bit more sensitive in the sun, her preferring under cooked or raw red meats, healing a bit faster than normal, and some increased physical abilities

Marina did her best though, and in the end the result was Jolyne being a good person who has several healthy alternates of dealing with her abilities and is looking forward to a long, healthy life :D

unfortunately for her, Pucci fucks that up and she doesn't even know there's anything crazy going on behind the scenes until Jotaro shows up to break her out

As for the thing with Jotaro's whole mental/emotional development....... while he's still angry, in terms of lashing out at people that stops almost immediately. Instead he ends up isolating himself even more than in canon. His pure terror of hurting people far outweighs his anger, and he sees the best way to avoid that as not letting them close to begin with

Several years down the line this does gradually get better, mostly thanks to his family's help, and by the time 2011 rolls around he's much more adjusted and comfortable with his vampirism. There's still a SHIT TON of baggage he still has to work through, but he's not disgusted with himself and what he is anymore so that's a plus

[princessamahle]

The dark frost hashira  black y/n reader x tengen x tengen’s wives part 11

The training seemed to get every slayer pumped but it seemed no one received the mark yet. You were starting to think this was all for nothing. But tengen reassured you that atleast they are getting a lot stronger. You would catch up with the other hashira as you haven’t seen them since you’d retire with tengen. They were happy to see you and to see you were doing well. But something about you seemed really different. They couldn’t point their finger on it. It finally took Gyomei to say something to you, as you came over to bring him lunch that day. He came up to you and put his hand on your lower abdomen. He rubbed it softly and even heard a heartbeat through his senses. He finally said to you “Your carrying a child inside of you” you looked up at him in disbelief “what? No….I’m not pregnant…” gyomei rubbed again just to be sure “yes…you are my lady” you rubbed your own tummy, gyomei was usually never wrong or even playing a joke on you or anyone. He was very serious and concerned for you. “My dear it seems you won’t be able to train with us any further.” gyomei advised you to go see kagaya and amane about your recent discovery. You hadn’t seen them since then. So when amane saw you she didn’t realize you looked different at first. In fact she asked how was the training and your relationship with tengen and his wives. You told her everything up to that point, when all of a sudden she finally realized you being here on this certain day during training seemed rather odd. “Y/n, is everything alright?” You still couldn’t believe what gyomei said but you decide to answer amane “gyomei…told me I was pregnant” kagaya chuckled a little at the news while laying in his bedridden. amane’s eyes widen just a little from that surprise. “(Cough) (cough) did you and tengen become passionate?” Despite the masters condition he still seemed to find humor in the situation. In fact, hearing him ask you such a question made you feel a little embarrassed. “I…I mean…we…um…his wives…(sigh) yes…. We were passionate.” He smiled at your unexpected news and asked you to come closer. You scoot over a little more by his command. He rubbed your stomach with the little strength he had. And said something to your stomach and then whispered something to you as you leaned down to him. Your eyes widen, full of tears as kagaya told you something very important. After that you cried into kagaya and amane’s arms like a child cries to their parents. Whatever kagaya said, never left your mind.

And you had a long walk home that day. It was almost evening time. But when you arrived, the first person you saw was suma. She was just done doing laundry and wanted to bring clothes in. She smiled at you.    “y/n! Your home finally! Huh?” You embraced suma and said “suma…where is lord tengen?” Suma rubbed your head “he’s taking a bath shortly after training was done for the day. We were wondering where you went. What’s wrong?” You looked up at suma “I can’t tell you until we all sit down together. And that’s exactly what you all did. You all sat down for dinner and saki. Hina offer you some saki, but you told her no.this caught everyone’s attention. “ hey what gives!? Your usually always the first to drink before us!” Makio complained. “Well that’s going to be hard for the next nine months.” Makio eyebrowed you for a moment and then she stared in disbelief, suma started to scream in disbelief, hina put her hands over her mouth, and tengen just stood there still confused. “What!!!!????!!!!!!” All three wives yelled. “Huh? What!? What is it!? Why are you all yelling like that!?!!  Did I miss something!?!!” Tengen being the only one confused needed more explanation so hina took tengens hand gently and brought him over to you. She placed it on your lower abdomen and made him rub it slowly. After it was pretty obvious at this point. Tengen grabbed you in an embrace. “Why didn’t you say something earlier?” You started crying “I…just…found out…I’m scared tengen…” tengen chuckled “of what? Having a child? Your not having this baby alone! Your with us. We’re all gonna be flashy parents!” He picked you up making you feel like the queen of the world. The girls hugged you and kissed your tummy. You were gonna be the first to have tengen’s child and the girls were all going to be moms with you. This was truly a good night.  

                      (Flashback)

You leaned down to hear what kagaya was saying to you. “I’m going to leave you soon my child. So I won’t be able to stay to see your little one come into the world. Muzan is near and will be coming here soon. So I want you to stay with tengen and the wives. Be safe my dear child. A war will rise but I promise when it’s all over, a new era will begin. And your child will live in a world free from demons. So support your comrades and your new family. Your not alone anymore.” You cried in their arms and said “Master…it’s been an honor.”

part 11. Part 12

[ciaossu-imagines]

And for the last of that Monopoly prompt, for a fandom I do love but am very nervous about publicly creating content for again, X-Men: Evolution! I hope to have the last three fandom prompts (for Blush Blush, Mystic Messenger, and Kekkaishi, for anyone interested) I've got done up for you guys sometime this week when my schedule allows and then will hit a couple inbox requests! Again, a reminder that I love to hear from you guys! I don't bite, I promise, and nothing any of you have to say is stupid!

Send me a fandom and a number and I’ll tell you who in Monopoly:

Is the banker: Scott asks to be the banker every time. It’s his favourite part of the game, honestly, so he doesn’t get too much resistance on that front from the others.

Is overly protective of a certain game token and refuses to play until they get that token: She doesn’t know why, but Wanda really likes the top hat. Go ahead and tell Wanda she can’t have the top hat…most people don’t. Doing so only happened once and was the shortest game of Monopoly ever.

Who is the person who everybody always suspects of cheating even though “OH MY GOD IT WAS ONE TIME”: I feel like Rogue got really competitive once with Jean and cheated to try to win. She was caught though and honestly felt horrible about it afterwards, especially with how disappointed in her everyone seemed to be and has never cheated again. However, when she gets in a lucky streak or wins, it inevitably gets brought back up, usually by Jean.

Is the person who cheats and gets away with it because no one suspects them: Pietro is fully capable, willing, and does use his powers to cheat in most games and Monopoly is no exception.

Buys everything they land on with a YOLO approach and no strategy: That’s the only fun way to play, isn’t it? At least, that’s Kitty’s approach to the game. She’s not very cerebral most of the time and especially so when it comes to things that aren’t really serious to begin with, such as board games.

Suggests that they liven it up with alcohol: As much as he tries not to drink or smoke around the children, set a Monopoly board in front of Logan and the drinking starts. It’s the only way he’ll be able to get through the game since he vehemently hates it. That being said, he’s drinking but none of the underage people are. He’s pretty strict about that one.

Has a very stringent strategy and is willing to do strange requests and weird dares in exchange for the properties they want: Want him to drink a bottle of mustard in exchange for the property he wants? Get up and do the cha-cha dance for $50000 in game? Oh, don’t think for a second Todd wouldn’t do any of the above and even more to get what he thinks will help him win. He’s stupidly competitive about silly board-games and has his own weird, and often ineffective, strategies that he thinks are sure to guarantee victory.

INSISTS that they play by the rulebook TO THE LETTER: Both Scott and Jean are adamant about playing according to the rules and will get quite upset when rules aren’t being followed.

Throws the rulebook in the other person’s face and makes up new rules to make it better: Lance, Kitty, Kurt, and Tabitha all kind of team up to see just how riled up they can make Scott and Jean with breaking the rules or, better yet, with making up new rules. It becomes their own competition and is more fun for them eventually than the actual game itself. The more ridiculous the rule or the more upsetting to those around them, the funnier they tend to find it. However, Kurt and Kitty typically play it nicer and calm down if things are getting really upsetting for the others while Lance and Tabitha have zero boundaries and will start fights over these outlandish rules.

Has ridiculously good luck with the chance cards to the point of suspicion: She swears up and down that she’s using none of her powers, but Jean has never pulled a bad chance card, just saying.

Lands on all the taxes and as a result vows to vote for a different candidate in the next election: I feel like Beast has fallen into this and made this joke…and it was met by crickets only because he was playing with the kids and none of them are super-political for the most part. Quite a lot of them couldn’t even name the candidates.

Goes bankrupt first: Kurt really isn’t great with money, even fake Monopoly money, and bankrupts himself within the first half hour every time.

Which two people get into a screaming match: I feel like Scott and anyone from the Brotherhood would fight, and that there’s usually a tiff between Rogue and Jean and between Kitty and Kurt.

Which two people are secretly collaborating for a joint victory: I feel like Lance tries to help Kitty and Kitty tries to help Lance. It’s not an outright alliance because neither of them says anything to the other. It’s just something they end up doing.

Which two people are openly collaborating for a joint victory: Everyone knows Scott and Jean are working together to win. They try to take out everyone else first before they end up duking it out against each other at the end and there’s definitely some tension at that point between them, with heavy flirting as well.

Who flips the table: Tabitha doesn’t flip tables. She blows them up, thank you.

Who is the sore winner who in any other circumstance would be the one flipping the table: Pietro is arrogant in the best of times, but should he win at something? Anything? He’s going to make sure everyone knows his greatness.

Who anonymously calls in a bomb threat to end the game early: No bomb threats but someone’s liable to use their powers to end the game pretty abruptly, sometimes without meaning to. It’s just a frustrating game and they can lose their tempers and accidents can happen.

Who is the smart person who refuses to play in the first place: Monopoly is boring and dumb, and Spyke refuses to play it ever. No amount of bribery or  pleading will make him.

[the1975attheirverybest]

"One thing about Matty is that he knows that we as fans love him." This is actually something I've been thinking about all year and I hope I won't be offending anybody (this isn't meant to attack you or any of your lovely followers/ anons) And this might just be me projecting/ being way too parasocial myself so apologies if this is too negative. I really don't mean to make anybody feel bad but I really wonder if Matty didn't experience some sort of disconnect with the fans this year. Fan culture/ concert etiquette has changed a lot. We already know that going viral on TikTok and thus becoming more famous has been hard on him. He's expressed nonstop that it bothers him that so many fans film during their entire gigs - AND keep trying to provoke some kind of reaction out of him so they can go viral. People have been following the band around and stalking him personally, he's even been doxxed. Then ofc he got this extreme amount of backlash when he went on the podcast and people screaming for him to apologize/ apologize the way they personally seemed best (not saying people's feelings and criticisms weren't valid but I think we can all agree that it was very intense and lacked nuance), then we got very extreme reactions to him dating TS. And while our fans were much kinder/ more supportive, there was a loud majority complaining that we would "lose him" now cause he surely wouldn't be allowed to behave a certain way/ a loud majority trying to trivailize what happened ("Oh well, they were never gonna last, they're too different"/ "Let's be real, it was just sex. They can't have possibly been in love") and I feel that's pretty patronizing? We actually don't know what he felt for her/ hoped for or how it affected him to be dropped so publicly/ unceremoniously. Next we had a lot of fans immediately side w/ Rina when she shamed him in front of his whole industry at a festival he's been hoping to headline his whole life, fueling the same discussions/ outcries for him to apologize (same disclamer as above), Malaysia after-math, fans constantly begging for more social media posts but then getting offended/ finding fault in his posts (same disclamer as above) and even accusing him of predatory behavior because he possibly interacted with underage fans... Fans making up all sorts of rumors about him on twitter "for fun", believing Deuxmoi, accusing him of being in a PR/ fake relationship, complaining about ticketing/ tour dates, getting all anxious and worked up before the start of SATVB, expressing dread instead of excitement for the new show and begging him to "shut up, stop your bits and just sing" (same disclamer as above) fans being rude/ talking over him while he's doing his speeches/ performance art (and I also think he's pretty disappointed that people aren't really "getting it"), fans being so weird and grabby that he decided he doesn't feel comfortable taking off his shirt any longer, constant complaining about his hair/ facial hair, constant complaining about how much he interacts with the audiences, fans having the audacity to complain that he was sick/ tired/ emotional during certain performances... the list goes on and on. Again, sorry if this is all very negative and probably too parasocial (and way too long) but I felt really disheartened at all the negativity and entitlement this year. It was a very hard year for him and whenever I go through a hard time I am much more sensitive/ tend to feel unloved if criticised (however justified). I really hope he still feels loved and like we're "getting him".

No you’re right. Idk I always wonder how he feels because there are moments when he seems to think that things aren’t as serious as they are (like the Twitter backlash) and times when he seems to know very well what the conversation within the fandom is.

I think he gets it. (Tempted to uno reverse his own words and say “he gets us.”) because as much as he’s seen stupid / toxic fan behavior he’s also seen real fandom. Like the Vienna show fans who held up “you are loved” signs and he thanked them for it. And then the fan who asked him “how are you? Like how are you, really??” And he said it was sweet but not to worry. And he always says “we love you guys and we’re still us, we’re still here” etc. and crying cuz he saw a fan cry. I think he experiences both extremes. And it must be a lot and confusing to process because yeah people love you but then there are those who do so for all the wrong reasons and how do you separate those and when do you engage or disengage. Which is why I don’t blame him when he gets a bit defensive or whatever. Bless him.

Not to be weird and start drama but I felt his presence in the room (tell me why I sound like I’m talking about a ghost) at the Baltimore show. Which he said was the best show they’d done. And I genuinely think it’s because we didn’t have that many phones out etc. he and I interacted a couple times so he definitely sees, appreciates, and engages with those fans who are genuinely there for the band and for the live show and not the tiktok discourse. He knows. It’s just a lot to process alongside all the other stuff. Must be hard.

[spyridonya]

For the fluff ask meme--J, O, and T for Kadee and Lann and/or Daeran?

O n Cloud Nine - What are they like when they are in love? Is it obvious for others? How do they express their feelings?

I've described it for Kadira, so let me focus on the boys!

Lann is pretty obvious, all jokes aside, he is harsher to others than he is to someone he's developing feelings for. Once upon a time he was far more gentle with Wendu than he is now. The more he thinks he likes someone, the more awkward he gets to the point he seems pretty foolish, and it's painfully true with women. Daeran is a bit different in how he interacts with him, because Lann can't admit he likes Daeran until Act 4, despite subconsciously treating him with far more affection than he does with Kadira.

It is a little harder for most people to realize Daeran is in love and the most perceptive party members are the ones to notice it (Lann, Arue, and Ember in terms of Daeran's affections for the commander). This is mostly due to the quiet moment that Daeran lets slip past by mistake, because he never had to fully hide something like this before. He far more gentle and genuinely smiles more to Kadira and eventually Lann, he finds excuses to walk closer to them, while cooking he manages to serve them up the best parts. It's not the bombastic actions that make people think he's in love because that's how he behaves with all his paramours. Ember is the only person in the party outside of Kadira who thinks Daeran is a little in love with Lann.

Thrill - Do they need to try out new things to spice out your relationship? Or do they prefer a certain routine?

I think the best way to answer this is 'yes'. Even Daeran who hates being bored craves a certain type of routine in romance in his life and Lann who whose stick is shoved in the mud wants something thrilling as he gets his footing. It doesn't help that the sense of routine for all of them is hard, this being Lann second relationship, Kadira's first, and Daeran's first serious one despite doing nearly everything other the sun in terms of sexual acts and kinks. However, they all do discover that thrill is more than just sex. It's traveling together, seeing new things together, experiencing new things with each other -- and eventually they know routine has to be made but it doesn't mean it can't be enjoyable.

Love Confession - How would they confess to their s/o?

So, I already answered J, and I wrote about Lann's first kisses with them, I decided to go with this instead so you have three things to enjoy!

You know who is the first to do a love confession? Without prompting or a life threatening event? Lann, Lann is the first to confess he's in love with Daeran and Kadira. He confesses to Daeran he loves him in Act 4 during his drunken binge and the tavern fight. He confesses to Kadee how much he loves her at the start of Act 5 when he finds out she could die on him. He's very confused about her muted happiness over this.

The second to confess their love? Daeran. He confesses to Lann quietly after Lann nearly dies during his personal quest and how much Daeran fears Lann will do something stupid again. He's a little more terrified to confess to Kadira because he fears she'll die on him as well and he's terrified to admit how much he depends on her. That's why Kadee's reaction to the Other in pushing he and Lann away hurt so much - not realizing that Kadee isn't afraid of dying, but knows she's going to die.

Kadee's confession is through tears and fear on the cusp between Act 5 and Act 6 as an apology because she's afraid she's going to hurt them profoundly when she dies. Lann and Daeran don't let her leave Drezen until they convince her how much they love her and that she won't die. They won't let her die on them.

It's all very, very dramatic.

[destinyc1020]

I mean any man who spends ten years with a woman, doesn’t marry her. And then goes and dates a girl just getting out of her teen years as he enters his 30s is obvi a very emotionally stunted man.

They dated for about 8 (almost 9?) years IIRC... 🤔

Like I've said before, marriage isn't for everyone.... 🤷🏾‍♀️ I already listed some Hollywood couples who have NEVER married, and are well into their 60s by now (some older) and are doing just fine.

I'm not making any excuses, but Austin's mother died due to cancer pretty early into his rlshp with Vanessa, and he's talked before about how he dealt with depression after that ordeal.

I actually think that he still suffers from depression from time to time, even now tbh. This is just based on some things I've heard him say, and things I've picked up about him. Having dealt with depression (and anxiety) myself at certain points in my life...Sometimes you can just sorta sense some things about ppl.

So do I think that he has some emotional things going on sometimes? Oh yea, I def do. He was very interested and was asking Janelle Monae for the number to the Emotional Coach that Janelle uses after Janelle mentioned during the Actors on Actors interview how much it helped Janelle. So yea for sure, I def think Austin goes through some emotional things, and there might be some things he's still not emotionally worked through yet. I mean, that's just life sometimes. 🤷🏾‍♀️

Honestly? I think the V breakup was probably for the best.

Think about it.... V met a younger Austin when he was just about 15/16 years old.... And then 5 years later, they begin to date... Then, not too long into the rlshp, his mom gets sick with cancer and then she dies. 😔 Then, about 2 years later HER (Vanessa's) dad dies.... 🥴 Again, these are all stressful events... 🥺 And keep in mind, he dated V all throughout most of his entire 20s.

If you are having issues in the rlshp, or maybe the two of you have grown into two different ppl, then there's nothing wrong with breaking things off. In fact, that's actually the best thing to do imo. Yes, it's painful, but it's better to let that person go and allow them to find someone else who might be better suited for them, and someone who might be better suited for you as well. 🤷🏾‍♀️

Maybe he knew he wouldn't make a good husband during that time. Maybe he needed to feel like he was really autonomous and stable in his career, and not just V's arm candy. And maybe (just maybe!!) Vanessa was sweet, but just not "the one" for him. That is so shocking I know lol, but it could be the truth? 🤷🏾‍♀️ There are so many things we just don't know that could have been going on in the rlshp. Either way, she seems happy and engaged to Cole now, so in reality, maybe Aus did her a favor! 😄

Re: Kaia....

I've already said ad nauseam on my blog that I'm def not a fan of the age she is compared to him either, but hey, they aren't children. 🤷🏾‍♀️ It's not like he knew her prior.

At this point, what else can fans do but wish them the best and K.I.M.?

I really don't think this rlshp is any endgame rlshp. Seriously.... Y'all they just seem like they're having fun and enjoying a rlshp. Not every rlshp is meant to be FOREVER. If I'm wrong, then I'm wrong! Oh well 🤷🏾‍♀️ I'm only saying that as of rn, I'm not seeing it.

While I'm not too keen on his dating choice atm, at the same time, I honestly think he needed to date more ppl since it seems he hasn't had but one serious adult rlshp in his entire 20s. 😔

[deadcactuswalking]

REVIEWING THE CHARTS: 25/03/2023 (Taylor Swift, Hozier, Lewis Capaldi)

For the 10th week in a row, “Flowers” by Miley Cyrus tops the UK Singles Chart. It may be its last considering Ed’s on the way, but for now, welcome back to REVIEWING THE CHARTS!

Rundown

As always, we start with our notable dropouts – songs exiting the UK Top 75, which is what I cover, after five weeks in the region or a peak in the top 40 – and we have a pretty varied list this time, as we say farewell to “Snowfall” by Oneheart and reidenshi, “SPIT IN MY FACE!” by ThxSoMch, “Never Gonna Not Dance Again” by P!nk, “Afraid to Feel” by LF SYSTEM and finally, once again, “Someone You Loved” by Lewis bloody Capaldi.

What’s filling the gaps? Well, our list of new arrivals does not seem built to last and “Pointless” by Lewis Capaldi only returns presumably due to the three-song rule at #68, so we may have to look at our notable gains, and for this week we don’t have many, in fact we seem to end up with a lot more losses, which I don’t really cover. Regardless, we do see boosts for “Here” by Tom Grennan at #39, “Can’t Tame Her” by Zara Larsson at #38, “REACT” by Switch Disco featuring Ella Henderson and the late Robert Miles at #32, “Mother” by Meghan Trainor at #27 (kill me), “Whistle” by Jax Jones featuring Calum Scott at #25, “Anti-Hero” by Taylor Swift at #18 thanks to residual Eras Tour hype (more on that later), and finally, “Creepin’” by Metro Boomin and The Weeknd featuring 21 Savage back to #10 thanks to a Diddy remix that prompted an ACR reset; its time back up here is very limited.

This week’s top five on the UK Singles Chart should all be familiar now, but with some notable movement: “People” by Libianca is at #5 alongside its fellow Afrobeats track “Calm Down” by Rema at #4, “Die for You” by The Weeknd is at #3, “Miracle” by Calvin Harris and Ellie Goulding is up to #2 off of the debut, and of course, “Flowers” reigns at the top. And now, without further ado, let’s look through our... interesting batch of new arrivals.

NEW ARRIVALS

#67 – “DEATH” – Melanie Martinez

Produced by CJ Baran and Melanie Martinez

We’re starting with Melanie Martinez, huh? God help us. So this is a somewhat exhausting week overall when it comes to covering the stories behind these songs, and we’ll get more into that as we go on, but there’s no easy D-Block Europe jester here: they’re all out-of-the-ordinary songs and it’s honestly difficult to explain why any of them are charting. This one... well, I guess it’s easy enough. Whilst Martinez has never been much of a chart presence, she’s a big deal amongst a certain brand of Tumblr user that has naturally spread over into TikTok (a demographic that kind of fits a lot of this week’s new entries), so her newest single was probably going to chart in the bottom 50. Thanks to a weak chart, it got into my territory of the top 75 and I’d feel silly asking the rhetorical question of if it’s any good. I’m about as far as you could get from a Melanie Martinez fan, and this song seemingly about the cyclical nature of life and death is ridden with so much Melanie Martinez lore that I, as a non-Melanie Martinez fan, can completely Melanie Martinez ignore. Therefore, what do we have without it? Non-descript vocals coated in Auto-Tune that make the more nasal, childlike inflections even more annoying? A musical theatre set of strings and pianos that takes the most immature and memetic response to grief possible... that is then completely ignored for a set of gross, buzzy synths over complete ass drums that are mixed like a complete mess alongside some disgusting vocal mixing? Great, thanks, I hate it. When 100 gecs released a rock album just last week, what purpose does this serve? I didn’t even like that album, but a half-serious gecs record is much more rewarding of a listen than something as self-serious for no real reason. It’s abrasive, eclectic, sure, but it makes you wait and wait for a chorus that hits at a completely wrong note but it scuffs any remnants of emotional resonance by way of childlike mockery. I don’t care about the lore, or the character, this is awful.

#58 – “Christmas Kids” – Roar

Produced by Owen Evans

So this may need some explanation, or at least as much as I can grant it. Roar is the moniker of Owen Evans, who you may know as having drummed for AJJ (no relation to AJR). This song is from his debut solo effort, I Can’t Handle Change, from all the way back in 2010 and it actually touches upon a subject from even earlier, that being the relationship between Ronnie of the Ronettes, who has sadly died since this song released, and Phil Spector, who has fortunately died since this song release. Spector was a nutjob who tormented Ronnie psychologically, rarely letting her leave the house, and often threatened to kill her. In 1971, as an attempt to save their marriage, Spector brought her two adopted children out of nowhere on Christmas Day, hence the title. Naturally, Owen Evans wrote a song about it, and a bit less naturally, he decided to do it from Phil’s perspective, in the style of a Spector-produced Brill Building track. Oh. Oh, dear. Uh, well, the production is decidedly cheaper than Spector would have had it, and the claps in the chorus just feel like random clips rather than whole-hearted claps, it really hurts the momentum, as does the slogging bridge which I understand is supposed to be creepy but it makes the whole thing seem comical... especially when Evans changes perspective to Ronnie and slows the tempo down. For a song about such a horrible, horrible abusive relationship, it all seems rather gimmicky, and I’m not entirely sure why we’re okay with this.

#52 – “Baby again..” – Fred again.., Skrillex and Four Tet

Produced by Fred again.., Skrillex and Four Tet

It’s a shame that Four Tet finally has a lead credit on a UK charting hit and it’s this glorified remix. “Baby” by Quality Control featuring Lil Baby and DaBaby is a famously repetitive song, mostly just because Lil Baby says “baby” a lot, and it didn’t actually chart in the UK – for which I thank God, since it’s pretty bad. This remix is kind of a cool idea, as Baby definitely fits into the pockets of this house groove but... well, it’s boring as sin, guys. I like all three of these guys as producers, particularly Skrillex, but sometimes too many cooks creates a product way less unique than the sum of its parts, which was true for most of the cuts from those two Skrillex albums earlier this year to be honest. The wonky synths over a bubbly bass function perfectly fine, but it’s not like it’s interesting or really that driving, and there are absolutely no stakes here given that the sample never changes flow or says anything particularly catchy. They just took the “Baby” song where Baby says “baby” a lot, and transposed it onto a bassy house beat – I wouldn’t say it’s unfinished at all, since the minimalism absolutely is the point, yet none of the tricks they pull out feel all that interesting, mostly because having all three producers kind of silences out the unique properties of each DJ. This sounds like something that was improvised at a DJ mix, and with how long its build-up is, I honestly wouldn’t be surprised if it were. That doesn’t make it bad, but it sure doesn’t interest me, especially if by the time we get a climax, the sample is an annoying, badly-mastered vocal clip rather than, you know, the actual hook that has been there for the rest of the track. It just seems like a wasted opportunity.

#41 – “Hell N Back” – Bakar

Produced by Jake the Snake and Beach Noise

Jake the Snake is an awesome producer name. This is a 2019 single from London singer Bakar that got viral on TikTok, and it sounds even older with its vintage guitars and slick whistle over the mellow drums. This particular brand of UK neo-soul was something I at some point was more into years earlier when I was listening to like Tom Misch and Sampha, but I still like this quite a lot. It’s a chill track and Bakar has some delightful charisma, and the references to drugs kind of explain the charming sloppiness in his delivery, and why those horns are so watered-down. Maybe the lyrics need some work – “she had green eyes like Mountain Dew”, really? – but I like the sentiment about capturing the feeling where you’ve been in a bad place, and your partner really caring for you is what makes you get out of that rut, even if that leads to some worrying dependency. It’s not a song I have much to say about, almost by design, but Hell, it’s heads and shoulders above everything else so far, so I’ll endorse this.

#30 – “Set Me Free Pt.2” – Jimin

Produced by GHSTLOOP and Pdogg

BTS member Jimin released his debut solo album – if you can really call it that, it’s 19 minutes – and this was the lead single, serving as a bit of an accidental sequel to bandmate SUGA’s song of the same name, hence the “pt.2”, and, man, I have yet to really be impressed with BTS members’ solo output, bar that one j-hope song with J. Cole a couple weeks back. This single goes for some real intensity with the compressed orchestra and choir vocals alongside alarm synths before exploding into drums that hit hard, sure, but not as well as they could have because of all the fuzz that surround them. Jimin himself is just horrible on this, I’m sorry – he is way too nasal and floaty for this beat, and I don’t believe him for a second when he talks about my “opps”, or reaches into his Adam Levine falsetto on the mind-numbingly repetitive chorus over those plastic horns. The second verse just sounds like a joke, with the comical cartoon inflections and Auto-Tune, but I don’t have a reason not to take this seriously. As a comedy song, it’d be pretty funny if that chorus wasn’t as long, but as a lead solo debut... Jesus Christ, man. Hopefully some of that album is better – it did come out today as of when I’m writing this – but God, this is honestly embarrassing, probably because it’s a lane Jimin shouldn’t be near in the first place.

#24 – “How I’m Feeling Now” – Lewis Capaldi

Produced by Lewis Capaldi and TMS

No, sadly, there’s no relation to the Charli XCX album. This is Capaldi’s third single from that upcoming sophomore effort, and well, damn, he’s finally grown some teeth at least. The entire song is a self-critique about his own mental state, with a sarcastic chorus and biting verses about how unsatisfied he feels with his life despite the fact he has everything. It’s not really connected to a girlfriend either, only vaguely stringing it to a breakup to make it a bit more accessible, I suppose, because this is definitely a famous man blues ballad, and it’s pretty damn great honestly. Sure, it’s minimal and kind of just lets Capaldi sit there amongst the folk guitars, but he’s mostly downplaying the delivery here, even though out of all songs, this one probably deserves the melodrama. The swell in the chorus wherein Capaldi really does start going for it is actually much more bearable than his usual froggy belting. In fact, this is basically an emo-pop song disguising itself as an Ed Sheeran album cut, especially with Capaldi’s delivery, and if you know me well enough, you’d know that compared to Capaldi’s usual fare, that’s right up my alley. Once the strings come in during the bridge, which is seamlessly connected to the chorus through a monosyllabic belt, which is just a cool songwriting trick, it feels really earned and the only percussion at the end of the song sounds like a ticking clock, with the looming fear of his fame’s demise nearing closer and closer. It may be compressed to Hell like all of Capaldi’s stuff, and he doesn’t go into that much detail... but this just hits like a brick and I’m honestly not sure why. Maybe it’s the downplaying of his vocals in the verses, maybe it’s that he finally understand some sense of dynamics, but I’m really bloody impressed with this – it’s an excellent song, and if Capaldi would prefer to look further inward on some of this upcoming album, he may end up with an extra listener. Yeah, I didn’t think I’d even hint towards listening to a Lewis Capaldi album, but this is genuinely fantastic.

#22 – “Eat Your Young” – Hozier

Produced by Bekon, Hozier, Rappy, Pete G and Chakra

Hozier, huh? “Take Me to Church” Hozier? “I’ll worship like a dog”, “I’ll tell you my sins”, etc. Hozier? In the top 40? At this time of year? In this pop climate? Localised entirely within #22? I liked that sophomore album, but I didn’t think he’d chart ever again, especially since his last top 40 hit was “Someone New” in 2015. Well, it was initially promoted in a snippet in February, with lyrics that come off as kind of kinky out of context until the full song gets released and that viral TikTok snippet ends up being based on the third circle of hell – gluttony – from Dante’s Divine Comedy. Just, sure, okay, it’s 2023, there are no rules to getting on the chart. Just be Hozier and make a song based on an epic poem that takes its title from a satirical essay written by Jonathan Swift which sardonically claims that to solve poverty in Ireland, the rich should start eating poor children, sold to them by their parents. The whole song seems to focus on the chauvinism of the British Empire, using the imagery of making a feast, with a sensuality making the lyrics seem not too far from oral sex, in reference to how they treated their colonies which, I mean, Hozier is Irish, it wouldn’t be a surprise. The use of the word “carving”, the entire second half of the chorus referring to war, the way it’s addressed to a woman – the motherland, Britannia if you wish – it’s a reasonable interpretation. On a grander scale, it’s about gluttony, and it sounds fittingly evil. Over perilous strings and soulful drums, Hozier trades his voice between a dusty smoulder and a dusty falsetto that sounds like the high horse this Empire was on. With that said, it does stay somewhat samey outside of the gorgeous piano-led outro, and that sensual villainy may lose its lustre overtime, but that’s implying that this will last on the charts and I have no idea where this is going past its first week. It’s a damn catchy tune, a wonderfully-composed track and a unique historical message for a charting hit, so I wouldn’t mind seeing it last longer and reach further heights, but I also won’t put my trust in it.

#11 – “All of the Girls You Loved Before” – Taylor Swift

Produced by Louis Bell, Ging and Taylor Swift

To celebrate the start of her massive Eras Tour, Taylor released re-recorded versions of three songs – none of which charted – as well as this scrapped track from the Lover era, which had some residual hype after a demo leaked, which she must have caught onto as she released it less than a month later. I have probably ranted on this series before that I don’t like Lover, and honestly this is nothing different for me, especially now that we have Midnights to compare it to: it’s like a more pastel version with way less interesting writing, meaning there’s basically no justification for the clunky inflections or straightforward melodies that just sound mindlessly slapped together on this pink cloud of mist that is an instrumental. The drums are stilted and anything melodic just gravitates into a must of nothingness, and apart from the chorus and bridge, Taylor doesn’t really write like herself either. It’s a worthless leftover love song, Taylor must have thought that initially anyway, and it probably should have remained as such until it found its way on “Taylor’s Version” or some B-side compilation, instead of being forced to single release by a leak. It’s honestly just kind of sad, if anything.

Conclusion

Huh, this was kind of a garbage week, wasn’t it? I mean, Best of the Week is nice and easy, with Lewis Capaldi taking it for “How I’m Feeling Now” and I was torn between the two options for Honourable Mention but I think I’ll actually give it to Bakar for “Hell N Back”. As for the worst... God, it’s like picking the worst out of a rotten bunch, but I honestly think that Roar gets it for “Christmas Kids” for just putting a disgusting taste in my mouth, and whilst I absolutely think a song from the perspective of the abuser is possible, it’s just an icky, misguided effort and honestly pretty terrible song even without the subject matter. Dishonourable Mention is  a toss-up between Jimin for “Set Me Free Pt.2” for just being comical, “DEATH” by Melanie Martinez for being aggravating and honestly, “All of the Girls You’ve Loved Before” by Taylor Swift. I didn’t like the new Jimin or Taylor Swift or Melanie Martinez, and I’m posting this on Tumblr: it’s like I’m tempting fate. Regardless, thank you for reading, and I’ll see you next week!

[omnivorousshipper]

Did I ever tell you guys about the time my student jumped out the window?

Ok, so I wasn't actually in the classroom when it happened

I had to do a lot of state testing, so I had to beg and plead to have a substitute cover my one class that I taught solo. I luckily got one that day

I had never seen the sub before (and haven't since), but he seemed super chill. I liked his vibe, especially since he had some really cool snake bit piercings

So, I set everything up and introduce him to all the kiddos. I give a fair warning that I didn't expect any teaching to actually be done and for him to just keep them from killing each other (you think I'm joking but I've had to break up a few fights)

Putting my faith into the sub, I leave and run up three flights of stairs to give the state test to the older kids

I don't get back to my classroom for 3 hours

When I enter, nothing was out of the ordinary. I go about my day and go to the lunch room to check on a few kids and get my tablets back from the kiddos.

That's when my student M stops me. I can instantly tell she wants to tattle

"J pushed your fan out the window!"

I'm confused but not upset. I'd personally knocked one of my fans out the same window. And I didn't think the kid did it on purpose since he and I had a good relationship.

But she keeps going:

"A jumped out the window to get it!"

Now I'm really concerned and hope she's exaggerating. My classroom is on the first floor (thank goodness) and faced a little empty plot of land. I mainly teach 6th graders, so 11-12. All the kids are pretty athletic so I'm not too worried about anyone getting hurt

So I ask her if she's joking

She's not

At this point, my stress was already through the roof with state testing and I can't deal with this.

Luckily, all 6th grade was at lunch and I go to the kid who knocked the fan out the window

J admits that it was an accident and that A very much went out the window

I go to A.

Now, A is a very sweet boy. He means really well but there's a bit of a disconnect when it comes to certain rules.

A had just moved to the US and spoke/understood little English. Several teachers had to get after him for running in the halls and roughhousing too much. He didn't always realize what he was doing was going against school rules so I kept this in mind when talking to him

"A, did you go out the window?"

He nods at me

I thank him for grabbing my fan but tell him not to do it again. I'm able to explain that it's dangerous and he understands.

The next day, I'm back in class with all the kiddos and clarify the story with everyone.

The whole class agrees with me that jumping out the window is dangerous and could get them in serious trouble, but I had to ask.

"What did the sub do? Why didn't he stop A?"

L and O say the sub did nothing.

I chalk it up to him freezing and unable to stop A before he did it.

Then, I ask:

"Why didn't anyone think of using the door?"

There is literally an exit door a few feet from my classroom. Staff constantly uses, even having students open it for them. There's no alarm or anything on it.

The kiddos don't have an answer to this.

All in all, I wasn't upset. My fan wasn't broken, the kids were safe, no harm no foul.

But, I never saw the substitute again.

I really want to know what he was feeling and thinking when A went out the window. Because if I was in his position, I'd be freaking the fuck out

[chaninfused]

I . literally don’t know where to start oh my god.

before I start rambling under the cut: IF YOURE READING THIS GO AND READ EVENING STAR I BESEECH THEE 🗣

ok OK you know how excited I’ve been for a new installment of es and let me tell you- IT DID NOT DISAPPOINT !! like when I woke up yesterday and saw the post about posting part two I SHRIEKED (silently) I will forever lose my mind over this series there’s nothing you can do about it 😌

anyway time for real feedback let me just say. Kat. I am OBSESSED with your writing like you don’t understand. I am obsessed. And this fic reminded me of that cus omg !! YOUR STYLE NEVER MISSES 🗣 from the very start like the way you described mc waking up. the disorientation the confusion the panic it’s just so scrumptious 😙👌🏻 I was truly so engrossed in reading and that was evident in my STRESS omg I wanted to physically reach in and grab those two and just SPRINT out of there 💆🏻‍♀️ it was truly getting serious.

The suspense !! mc running through the forest and then reuniting w chan !! it was all just written so beautifully <3 and oh my goodness that part where chan finds mc in her room ✋🏻 I was stressed as HELL but im glad it all went well in the end sdhjksld I said this in my feedback for pt 1 and I must say this again—reading this felt like watching a movie. Perhaps the bg music played into it but I know that it was all thanks to the way you went about writing those scenes. You paid so much attention to detail and it shows cus every sentence was crafted so beautifully. There’s a certain flow ?? dynamic ?? to your words that just pulls the reader’s mind through the scene it’s like seeing something through a camera. I’m trying to say that your camerawork is excellent ig 👁 LMFAO SDHJFKSLDFS

There was this line, “stories of heroes could be immortalised by ink and tongue, but things like safety were only temporary” that I just really really liked. Nothing particular I just think it’s nice so i’m drawing attention to it 😌

Speaking of lines I also liked this part “No; Chan wouldn’t just be pointing fingers - he’d be pointing a sword at whoever’s name you let slip” cus it’s 1) funny 2) clever 3) sums up chan’s character pretty nicely GHFSDJKLSD

I must say minho’s first line is the most iconic tho I IMMEDIATELY knew he was gonna be my favorite character and I know I’ll suffer because of it 😔✋🏻 but that’s okay everything for mister snarky mage

Pardon the incoming minho rant btw I JUST REALLY LIKE HIS CHARACTER DGHFJKSD 😭 him helping mc from a distance and then his introduction—just immediately threatening the One Guy With A Sword. Absolutely a moment for the history books I must say. Also his backstory ?? whatever history he has with mc ?? I am utterly and absolutely shaking with curiosity I need to know 1) what happened 2) WHO LEFT HIM SO HURT 🔪

I may have been all heart eyes over knight chan but it seems that my agenda has changed 😔 as it often does when minho appears.

ALSO WTSFDFGSDHGSDJ I NEARLY FORGOR

HYUNJIN ????????????????????????????????????????????????/ HYUNJIN I KNEW IT TJHKDFSHDJFKSLD;KDSJGHSJDK he was suspicious from the very start smh I can’t defend you for this one bestie 😔 I say this fully knowing I’ll be over here kicking my legs if he shows up again it’s just the hyunjin stan in me I cannot stop her she’s embarrassing ✋🏻

Oh also I said something that I want to elaborate on/clarify further—that the way you described minho shows the familiarity shared between him and mc ☝🏻 this could just be the overthinker in me but like you focused on how his features had changed and matured rather than introducing them (if that makes sense 💀) so like, as readers, we got a general description of him, but then this focus nicely depicted the relationship he and mc have. They haven’t seen each other in years but still he’s familiar yk familiar enough that mc would notice the growth in him after so long- IDK IF ANY OF THIS MAKES SENSE BUT I JUST WANTED TO EXPLAIN CUS !!!! YOUR WRITING WAS WONDERFUL OKAY 😤

Anyway idk what else to say cus my brain is just a big ol’ keyboard smash atm 😔 im so excited for what comes next (MORE MAGE MINHO !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!) and now I honestly feel inspired to go revisit my wips and finish writing so sdfhgjsdf thank you :P

This was overall an amazing wonderful exciting installment of the series thank you for blessing us, kat 🤲🏻🤍

☾⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ: evening star ; two *⋆.*:･ﾟ .: ⋆*･ﾟ: .⋆

⋆*･ﾟ story preview. ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ:

pairing(s): knight!chan x princess!reader, mage!minho x princess!reader featuring: prince!hyunjin and others. story summary: you were soon to be married to a well liked and nobel prince from one of the wealthiest kingdoms. however, when the engagement ball takes a turn for the worst, you’re to try and reclaim your kingdom with the help of your knight and best friend chan, as well as the mage who you have a secret history with.

⋆*･ﾟ part two ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ:

wordcount: 13.9k chapter warnings: blades, mild violence, some injuries note that these warnings are specific to this chapter. if you read something you think should be tagged, please send me a message/ask. a/n: hihi! sorry for the long wait but she's here!! i did have to repost this for reasons which i won't get into, but anyhow. happy reading! taglist: @kpop--etc / @freckled-felixlee / @foivetimesacharm / @tremendousminyoongi / @wearethethunderousones / @chrisishungry100397 / @freckledquokka / @starrylino / @soulssung / @scarsnfevers / @sahazzy / @djeniryuu // unable to tag some :(( --- m.list | one | two | tbc...

It's cold.

That's all you can seem to think about as you slowly come to, the heaviness in your head tempting you to keep your eyes shut. Your ears are ringing dully, and your limbs feel heavy, the way they had years ago when you had first tried to swing Chan’s sword.

The memory blurs in your brain as you try to push yourself up. Your shoulder is killing you - you must have fallen asleep with your arm at a strange angle, but for how long? How long had you been on the staircase for your shoulder to hurt like this? There was nothing to indicate the passage of time that had passed, though the moon was viewable through a small cutout in the staircase. It shown down through the gap, cold moonlight casting an eerie blue glow over you

Deep breath in, deep breath out. Repeat.

As the ringing in your ears start to die down, an unsettling feeling overcomes you. It was quiet. Too quiet. There were no footsteps, no distant chatter or sounds of the quartet playing. There didn’t even seem to be any nightlife - the sounds of crickets and owls that you were positive almost always accompanied the night were no where to be heard. Had it always been this quiet?

As if the world was desperate to prove you wrong, the sound of clattering footsteps makes its way to your ears from below. There was the familiar footfall of the palace servants - more rushed and skitterish than normal, but the sound of their shoes on stone was one you had grown up with.

And then there’s the heavy sound of boots, creating a dull thud with every step.

“To the ballroom! Now!”

It was an unfamiliar, gravelly voice - none of the guards you knew sounded like that. None of them sounded that demanding. As the steps come nearer, you can make out panicked whispers and muffled crying.

Pushing yourself up, forcing your weak legs to hold you up, you scramble up the staircase, away from the noise. With each forced movement, whatever power had fatigued you seems to wash away.

Some part of you - the part that had grown up on adventure stories and fairy tails of princes saving princesses - wanted to run down and help whoever was crying. But you knew that wasn’t the smartest of ideas - and the castle staff, knowing their kind hearts, would tearfully scold you for putting yourself in danger for them.

The sound of your shoes on the stone stairs reverberates in your ear. Kicking them off, you continue barefooted up the staircase.

It was a good idea - not only were your steps quieter, but the cold floor beneath you was grounding. It shocked the drowsiness out of your system, heightened your senses.

And thank god for that, fpr had you continued on with your shoes, you may not have noticed the voices from the second floor until it was too late.

“Find her! She can’t have disappeared into thin air!”

Were they talking about you? So whatever had happened had been to target you?

The thought makes your blood run cold, a sudden wave of dizziness hitting you. To your knowledge, you had never been made the sole target for anything, and all the drills and procedures that you had been taught- they all revolved around someone escorting you away, someone protecting you.

But right now? You were alone, unsure who the enemy was and had no way to contact the only person you trusted. You didn’t even know where he was.

Your mind jumps to your mother - where was she? Was she alright? The last time you had seen her, she’d been in the ballroom. There had been plenty of guards in the ballroom. Hopefully, she was alright.

“Have you checked her room?” A new voice - familiar, but not enough that you can put a face to it in your panic.

“Yes, sir. She isn’t there.”

You wait, holding your breath and pushing yourself flat against the curved wall of the staircase as you wait for the men to move away - anywhere but down the staircase. It seemed an eternity before the one in charge replies.

“Fine. Go find some men and comb through the forest. If she somehow escaped, she can’t have gone far. Not in heels and a ball gown.”

“Yes, sir!”

Hearing their footsteps fade, you take the last few steps up to the top. To leave the temporary sanctuary offered by the darkness of the staircase seems like leaving the only safe haven you know, but you also know that almost nothing was ever permanent - stories of heroes could be immortalised by ink and tongue, but things like safety were only temporary.

Your bare feet pad across the cold floor, the lack of echo each time your feet hit the ground alien to you.

It was tiring and absolutely terrifying to look over your shoulder every few steps - what if, in that split second, someone appears in front of you? Or what if you look back, and someone is there? You weren't sure who the men were, who they worked for (if anyone at all), nor were you sure what they wanted.

Despite there having been men above and below the staircase, you manage to make your way down the hall without being spotted. When the door to your bedroom finally comes into view, the adrenaline increases in your veins - this was it, this was the last sprint. As soon as you're in, you can lock the door and then figure out your next move.

Taking a deep breath, you set off on a run to the door, feet falling hard against the ground.

Just as you reach the door, the sound of footsteps from down the hall reach you. You start fumbling the door handle, hands suddenly uncooperative and breath erratic and heart beating in your ears and the footsteps are speeding up, getting closer, closer, closer-

The door opens, and you barely manage to push it shut behind you as you stumble in. Spinning around, you throw yourself back against it, fingers struggling to lock the door based off of muscle memory.

You can hear the lock slide home, the click calming your nerves ever so slightly.

Finally, you were safe once again, your room providing temporary solace. And familiar, it could have been, had your room not look like it'd been torn apart.

The blankets on your bed had been pulled off, and the wardrobe doors thrown open. Closet doors had also been opened, and you could see the gaps in your clothes where someone had pushed them apart. And at the center of your room - the flowers you had been gifted earlier in the day, spilling over the edge of the table, the vase knocked over.

Whoever had come looking for you had really looked through everything, you thought, face warming despite all. But it should be the last thing on your mind, you chide yourself. There were more important matters at stake - like your life, and whatever on earth was going on.

Running to your open wardrobe, you rummage through the mess that had been left behind for something to change into, grabbing at the darkest thing you could find - a dark, velvet dress. You quickly undress, letting the stained tulle gown fall and bunch around your feet. Stepping out and kicking it aside ungracefully, you struggle to pull the velvet dress on while simultaneously digging around for something that wasn’t heels - it takes longer than you had thought to locate some riding boots. You crouch down, pulling at the laces.

How long would it be before someone was going to return to check your room? If you were still here, what would happen? Could you fight them off by yourself? ...No, probably not. You might be able to fling a few measly knives, but you had never been in combat of nay kind. If anyone returned, if anyone found you, you’d be helpless.

And then what? Would they take you to the ballroom, where it seemed they were gathering everyone, or would they lock you in the dungeon? Or would they ki-

Like a deer who had heard a twig snap, your body freezes when you hear your door rattle. Every joint in your body feels like it’s been locked in place, and your breath unable to leave your lungs. Had you overthought this all and imagined up the door rattling? Or was someone really outside, trying to get in?

It rattles again, a catalyst for movement as you crawl to your bed - an unsightly scene for a royal, but you couldn’t care less - and reach under the bedskirts. Your hand grasps at nothing until finally your fingers wrap around the string of the drawstring bag you had handed Chan earlier that morning. Pulling it out, you could hear the metal daggers sliding against one another, the harshness of the sound amplified against the stone even through the fabric of the bag.

Click.

Your breath is caught in your throat, trying so hard to force its way out that you feel like you’re about to puke. The drawstring bag seems to be stitched shut, your fingers prying helplessly at the string and the material.

Over your raging heart, you can hear the door shut softly.

Someone was in your room.

Hands shaking and sweating, you finally manage to tug the bag open, and you pull it wide, not caring for what noise it made - if someone was in your room, they were bound to find you anyways - and you reach inside, hands sliding against cold metal that sends shocks up your your arm.

Like some twisted nightmare, all you can see is a pair of black boots before you feel yourself being pushed over onto your back, the stranger putting his weight onto you and pinning your hands above your head with one hand, the other covering your mouth.

Eyes squeezed shut, you thrash around, kicking and twisting, yells muffled despite all your effort. The grip around your wrist was secure, preventing you from even twisting your hand around and nicking the person’s hand with the small dagger you had tried to hard to retrieve.

“Shut- Shut up, y/n, it’s me-”

Your body stills at the all too familiar voice. Eyes snapping open, You find Chan leaning over you, face flushed and eyes wide. He was panting, as if overpowering you had taken all the strength from him.

He releases your wrists, bringing a finger to his lips. Be quiet.

When you nod in response, he lifts his other hand from your mouth.

Without another thought in mind, you reach up and pull him down on top of you, hugging him tight despite your shaking limbs and burying your face into his shoulder. He smelled of the forest at night, the smell of earth and wood mixing with sweat and Chan.

“Chan, I thought you were someone else-”

Your breath rushes out, words barely squeezing past the sob in your throat.

Seeing Chan’s face made you want to cry; you wanted to be held, to be cradled in his arms and have him whisper words of comfort in your ear, for him to stroke your hair and tell you hey, everything’s alright, this is all just a bad nightmare and you’ll wake up soon.

He does stroke your hair - you feel his hand come under you, holding your head to the crook of his neck. He pats your head, hand running over your hair rhythmically until the adrenaline in your veins dissipates.

The smell of forest and night and Chan, the feeling of fabric between your nails and your palm, the sensation of being held by someone safe - it grounded you, each rattling breath shaking out the fear from your mind.

Slowly, your hands open and release his shirt. Even with your arms loose around his torso, Chan continues to hold you, and then you feel it, adrenaline leaving the room for your senses to recover.

His arms around you are strong - you’ve always known that he was strong - but they’re tense, as if he was restraining himself from holding you any tighter than he already was. You can hear his breaths, forcibly steady and controlled, and his hands are shaking against your hair as he calms you down, leaving an onlooker to wonder who it really was that needed the comfort.

He gulps, and you think he’s about to say something, but he pulls back. Still on top of you, he looks down, his bangs hanging and brushing against your forehead. He seems to be scanning your eyes, your face, for something that you couldn’t quite figure out. Injuries, perhaps? Or was he trying to see if you were still scared?

With each passing second, you can see his eyes soften. Simply looking at you, it seems, was enough to ground Chan.

“Did- Did you lock the door?” you break the silence after a while, and Chan blinks rapidly.

As if suddenly remembering that he was straddling your hips and leaning over you, he throws himself to the side, rolling into a kneeling position. He nods minutely, glancing across the room to the door. Though it stands silently, though you can't help noticing the feeling of impending doom it seems to radiate.

You push yourself up from the floor, retrieving the dagger you had discarded upon recognising Chan. The metal is unnervingly cold against the palm of your hand, and you quickly drop it back into the bag.

"What happened?"

Chan is across the room, peering out one of the two windows in your room. His eyes flick to you, and quickly back out the window when he catches you staring at him.

You shake your head, still trying to piece it all together yourself. "I don't- I don't know. I was going back to my room-"

"Why?"

"To change my dress - There was an accident-"

"Accident?"

"Yes, I knocked into someone- No, they knocked into me- Oh, I can't remember, but my dress got stained, so I was told to go back to my room and wait for a new dress. I was- I was on my way to my room, and then everything started getting all... weird, and it was like the castle was moving - I couldn’t - I couldn’t walk fast enough, and I was scared, and the torches kept moving and-" It was all mixed up in your brain. You could picture it all happening, could see yourself talking to the maid, could see the hallway, the fire and dancing shadows on the wall-

"Breathe, your highness. You're safe right now. I'm here." Chan had, at some point, made his way over to you. He had his hands on your shoulder, his thumbs rubbing circles into your skin. "Now, have you been in your room all this time?"

“I-” shuddering breath in, shuddering breath out. “No. I only made it to the stairs before I... before I fell asleep.”

Once you had calmed down, Chan starts the questioning. What do you remember seeing? How long were you asleep? What did you hear? You had expected this to happen, and tried to recall all the details.

The story, though short, slowly unravels, and Chan shares his side too. He had been making his rounds, ensuring everyone was stationed where they were supposed to be when he noticed the change in the atmosphere - everything had gone quiet. He’d found one of his men on the ground - unwounded, but asleep, and Chan couldn’t wake him up. He would have kept trying, but then he saw the group of men approaching the castle.

“There were too many for me to try and beat. And I didn’t know how many more there were, and it was just- there were too many risks.” Chan had regret painted all over his face. You knew how much it must have hurt him to walk past his men, all on the ground, and be able to do nothing to help them. “But they said it had worked. And I don’t know what it is, but from the looks of it...”

“Magic.”

The word hangs in the air, a dark cloud that could bring anything from a light shower to a thunderous storm. No one really knew what the nature of magic was - after so many years of separation between the magical and non-magical, there was little interest in educating the non-magic folk of what magic really was. Magic was wild, something you nor Chan could fully comprehend.

“What I don’t understand,” Chan starts, pacing around the room, “Is why you were the only one who woke up. I mean - I assume I was outside of the spell’s perimeter, but you, your highness... Everyone was asleep, when I made my way here. No matter how hard I tried to wake them, no one would open their eyes. They were all breathing, though.” A reassurance, for himself or for you, no one knows.

You had an idea about why you were awake. A voice, a memory, a boy from long ago. You were sure he was connected to this somehow, that he had somehow tried to protect you - he had told you to run, had he not? That had to have been his voice.

But you knew that mentioning him to Chan right now wouldn’t be the best of ideas. Chan - always protecting you, always ready to cut down anything that could be a risk to you - was already sure magic was the root of whatever trouble you were now in, and to tell him that the reason you woke up was most likely because of someone’s magic?

No; Chan wouldn’t just be pointing fingers - he’d be pointing a sword at whoever’s name you let slip.

So instead, you shake your head. “But what now? We can’t stay here and wait the spell out,” you reason. “Besides, I heard the men moving everyone to the ballroom. We- We can’t even stay here.”

The realisation settles in your mind, a cold blanket that seemed to freeze you in place.

You had… never spent a night outside of the castle before. Chan had, of course, but he had been out with people who were able to protect themselves, able to take care of themselves.

But what were you, if not a princess who had grown up sheltered by the castle? And sure, you theoretically knew your way around a blade, but you could barely do more than hit within two meters of your target.

"...And I know we don't have time, but we'll figure this out, okay?"

You would be nothing more than a burden on Chan; extra baggage that he had to carry and take care of, whether he wanted to or not.

"I won't let anything bad happen to you or our kingdom. I promise."

Sometimes, you simply wished for a life free of the responsibilities you and Chan had.

"Your highness?"

It was hard to shake the thoughts from your head, though you tried - too much was at stake right now for you to get lost in your own shortcomings.

"Y/n," comes Chan's voice, closer and softer than it had been a moment ago, drawing you away from all the possibilities of the past, present and future. "I know this is overwhelming, but I need you here with me, okay?"

He raises a hand, palm cupping your cheek and thumb swiping under your eye - had you been crying? You hadn't even realised.

"I'm here," you tell him, and despite your voice betraying you, you really were present. Wiping away at your tears, you take a deep breath. "I'm here," you say again, more confidently this time.

"Good. Now,” Chan takes a breath that seems to rattle his body as much as you felt rattled. “Go grab that dagger from above your bed."

It takes a moment for your feet to move; once they do, it was like everything was being sped up.

You had to get up on the bed to reach the dagger. You go to step on your pillows, almost falling as they move under your weight, and kick them out of the way. They fall onto the floor with light thumps, and you reach up for the dagger.

“What about the prince?” You ask as you unhitch the blade from where it was mounted. The light catches on the star etched at the hilt, flashing as you move off the bed and back to Chan. “Him and his men aren’t familiar enough with the castle to-”

“With all due respect, my only responsibility right now is you,” Chan replies. He isn’t cold or dismissive, but his tone tells you he wasn’t going to compromise your safety for anyone else. “There are too many unknowns right now for us to try and find him.”

He’s standing by your window, peering out of it from the side. You sneak a glance out, curious as to what he was watching.

Nothing. He was watching nothing.

All was still outside your window, which overlooked the back of the castle. The forest was dimly lit by the moon, though you could see the shadow of clouds inching closer and closer. The only thing that seemed to move - even the trees seemed like they were still, unmoving against the wind that moved the clouds.

“Are we… Are we going?”

He nods silently, solemnly, before turning on his heels with what seems to you like newfound determination. Had he been thinking all this time? Trying to come up with a plan?

Well, you’d probably know had you not been so caught up in your thoughts before.

“Now listen, your highness.” Chan is busy rummaging through your bag of knives as he talks. “It’s just the two of us, so I should be able to fight should anyone come at us. But in the case that someone gets to you, you use the dagger, all right? And if you don’t have your dagger, use your body. Fists, elbows, knees. Connect with the throat, with the eyes. You might not be strong enough to faze an armoured person with a hit to the torso."

You nod, repeating the words in your head. Dagger, fists and elbows, throat and eyes.

“These will be too loud if we’re to carry them around, and we don’t have any harnesses on us.” He balls the bag up, sliding it and the daggers across the floor and back under your bed. He turns to you next, hands on your shoulders and looking into your eyes with a fierceness that almost shakes you. “If we get separated, you run into the forest, okay? You aim for the forest, and get as far in as you can. I’ll find you.”

Brows furrowing, you shake your head. “You- You say that like I’d leave you behind.”

“You have to, if I get caught- If I’m fighting someone. If you have the chance to run, you run, okay?”

You continue to stare at him, at Chan, who had been by your side all your life, who was asking you to leave him behind if the situation called for it.

“Promise me, your highness. If I tell you to go, you go, okay?”

He’s looking at you with such seriousness, with so much will and determination and need for you to to promise. And, were you to look closer, look longer, you’d see the fear in his eyes.

What was it that he knew, that he had thought about that you hadn’t quite comprehended about the situation yet? Surely it wasn’t so bad that Chan would have to… sacrifice himself, right?

“Y/n, I need to know you’ll be safe if I-”

“I promise.” The words manage their way up and out your mouth, leaving a vile taste behind. It was both a truth, and a lie. I promise I’ll be safe. I won’t leave you behind.

—

The plan had seemed simple when Chan had talked you through it, and perhaps it was naive of you to take his words at face value. You definitely thought so now, as you almost run into Chan for the third time as he stops abruptly at a corner.

Ahead, you can hear the sounds of voices - not hushed, but far enough that you can't make out any of the words. They slowly grow louder, louder, footsteps drowing out the words, and then all the sounds fade out all together.

“Okay, let's go.”

After a moment of silence, Chan moves again. You follow closely behind, glancing back every few seconds to make sure that no one had walked around the corner.

You were near a staircase, you knew. Another small spiraling one, not unlike the one you had fallen asleep upon.

Chan stops before the entrance. He pokes his head in, cocks his head slightly to the side - you wait, heart beating in your ears until Chan gives the all clear.

The pair of you descend the stairs, the cold entrapped in the small, stone-walled space sending shivers down your spines. You spare but the smallest thought to curse yourself silently for forgetting to bring coats - but this wasn’t a planned outing, really. Who had the luxury of time to remember coats?

As yellow torchlight can be seen reflected on the walls of the staircase, Chan turns his head to speak to you in a hushed voice.

“Once we exit the staircase, we’ll head straight for the back door. Once outside, head straight for the forest. If we get separated, meet near the clearing where you practice-”

Chan disappears from your sight, thrown to the left with a grunt of pain.

“Chan!”

You quickly descend the last few steps, turning to find Chan on the floor, an arm over his head protectively. As you go to take a step towards him, mind gone in your panic to see if he’s alright, your feet leave the ground.

“Let- Let go of me!”

The person behind you has a hand around each wrist, pushing your arms against your chest as they lift you off your feet. You’re kicking and yelling, the dagger in your hand useless with what little range of motion you have.

As if you were but a pillow, the person - a man, you guessed, from the grunts in your ear and the thick, muscular arms around you, - carries you over closer to Chan.

“It wouldn’t do his highness any good to leave someone so devoted to the princess alive-”

You freeze as dread feels your veins, your mind, every part of your body, filling you in a way that seemed to offset your balance.

His highness? He couldn’t mean- no-

The man moves you to the side, jerking motion pulling a cry from you. He pulls his leg back, prepares to kick Chan. You shut your eyes tight as you can, turning your head away - to see Chan in pain right now, to see him be hurt, would crush your spirit.

“Don’t worry, some of your buddies will be joining you soon,” the man says, before bringing his leg forward and-

A sharp curse is yelled into your ear before you feel yourself fall, eyes staying shut until you feel the body behind - no, beneath you, make impact with the ground.

The man’s arms loosen around you just enough for you to pull an arm free. The dagger, held so tight in your hand that you feel like it’s hilt would be imprinted into your palm, swings behind you blindly. There’s a shout of pain before the tip skids along the stone ground.

Whatever damage you had done was enough of a surprise for the man to release you.

You roll off of him, being sure to keep the blade of the dagger away from you, and scramble to your feet. Eyes wide, you take in the scene before you.

Chan, still on the ground, was pulling the man towards him by the foot; had he stayed on the floor on purpose to pull the perpetrator down with him?

“Chan-”

“Go, y/n!

You stare in horror as the man, getting dragged slowly but surely towards Chan, starts to come back to his senses and recover from the initial shock of the fall. Chan, while not lacking in the muscle department, looked like he would be done for if he took another few hits.

And yet he wanted you to leave him.

It was his job, you knew, but still-

“I’ll be right behind you! Just go!” Chan yells, half frantic and half commanding, eyes jumping haphazardly between you and the slowly awakening man. “You promised!”

You had, and yet you had also promised yourself you wouldn’t abandon him. But what use were you if you stayed?

Chan wouldn’t be able to use his sword, not at that close a distance. You knew enough about battle to know that. So you do the only thing you can for him in that moment.

“Here!”

Before Chan could even look at you, you slide the dagger in your hand towards him, hilt first. It glides across the ground, metal against stone filling your ears, and as it passes the man, a brief image of him grabbing it and diving forward at Chan flashes in your mind.

But he doesn’t grab for it, and the dagger comes to a stop at Chan’s knees. He looks at it in shock, confusion, then back at you and nods.

Now, go, his eyes seem to say.

A strange calmness had settled in Chan’s face, as if he had come to some final decision, had accepted something.

A pit of newfound discomfort makes its home in your stomach, but you do, this time. You go slowly at first, one step back, two, and then you turn your back and run.

You can hear grunts and yells as you run away from Chan and the other man. You can hear him yelling to let anyone nearby know that the princess was getting away, but you don’t turn back to see if anyone’s following you. Part of you feared you would lose your footing if you did, the harsh sounds of your running steps a driver to keep you going, and the other feared the potential scene you had left behind.

It was awfully difficult to run in the velvet dress. Though no where near the heaviest dress you had worn, the way the skirt’s layers moved against your legs seemed to act like a barrier. You fought on, pulling it up to free your ankles of the resistance. The echoes of your steps fill your ears, heart beating against your chest, in your ears, as the wooden door you had come through this morning finally becomes visible. As if in response to your near success, you can hear the sounds of more men coming - the clunking of armour, of swords being unsheathed, of incoherent orders being yelled.

You push the door, the velvet of the dress catching on the old wooden door; though reinforced with iron bars, the door itself had stood sturdy for as long as you can remember, and though well maintained, time had brought forth a few chips. It stood strong, even now, and your face scrunches up in effort - had it always been this heavy? - until finally, finally it groans open.

Cold night air slips through the gap, drying your eyes and piercing your already pained lungs further. You step out, one foot, then the other, and the door slams shut behind you.

The vast silence that greets you is deafening.

Despite the breeze that had slipped through the door, the air was still. Lack of wind didn’t make you any less cold, and you feel a shiver run through your body as you scan the horizon.

The forest behind the castle seemed frozen in place, and had it not been for the eerie way the clouds floated above the trees, you’d have no trouble believing someone had stopped time in its place.

Draped in the blues and purples of night, the stone stairs that lead down the east side of the castle and to the stream that separated the castle grounds from the forest looked colder than ever. You had fallen on them once when you were younger, the cold biting into your palms when you had gone to brace yourself. To fall again now might mean more than just scratched up hands and knees.

You hands fist at your sides when you feel the unnerving thoughts fill your mind. Into the forest, Chan had said. As far in as you can go, and he’ll find you.

He’ll find you. He would always find you, unless-

You take a deep, bone-rattling breath in and let the pain of cold air in your nose ground you. Pulling your skirts up once more, you make your way down the stairs.

Steady but fast, you descend the stairs. Each step reverberates through your body, the sound of your own breathing in your ears.

You didn’t dare to concentrate on anything other than placing one foot before the other and not missing a step - a tumble would be detrimental to everything, would put you at risk, would make Chan’s sac- would mean that Chan had stayed behind to fight for nothing.

Your boots make contact with grass, the soft surface of the new ground unsettling to your legs. One step, two, a glance behind. The door stood dark and unmoving - had the men not seen you leave it, or were they occupied elsewhere?

It mattered not - you take a deep gulp, cold air filling your throat, your lungs, before you start running towards the stream. Just past there, and you would be at the forest. While you had yet to explore the entire forest, you knew most of it, and you were certain that at the very least, you knew it better than the men who were attacking the castle.

The men who were attacking the castle… His highness, the man had said.

You were in denial, you knew, but there was only one person that you were aware of that held that title.

Your throat seemed to close up at the thought - the prince had been nothing but kind to you and your servants, had done nothing but try to get to know your land better… and it all could have been an act.

Yet some part of you wanted to believe he was better than that - better than someone who acted kind and gentle, who spoke fondly of their men, their friends, just to sympathise and get on your good side. But he had said it himself, no? That with the lives of their people in their hands, there are things that royals need to sacrifice?

The maelstrom of thoughts is pushed from your head when your feet meet new ground once again. The stream is shallow and unmoving, and yet dragging your feet through the water seemed to require a great deal more energy than ever before. It’s cold, the width from one side to the other large enough that despite your boots, your feet seem numb by the time you reach the other side. Your skirt, though you had held it as high as you could manage, had been caught by the river in the crossing and now seemed to drag behind you as you trudge through the last stretch of land to the forest.

And just in time.

Shouts from the castle reach your ears as you step between the trees, and you turn to see silhouettes of men, flames from their torches lighting up the sides of their face. Too far away for you to make out if the three of them were your men or not, yet close enough that they could see you should they descend the stairs.

So you push aside the small slimmer of hope that these were Chan’s men and scurry into the forest.

It was dark, twigs and leaves on the ground catching on your dress as you make your way in, and yet you found an odd comfort in the shadows of the trees. If the people chasing you were in fact from another land - you refused to even think that they might be your people - then being in the forest that you had explored since you were young would, theoretically, put you at an advantage. You might not know the entire forest inside and out, but you knew it well enough that you were confident you would be able to evade the pursuers.

At first, you follow the path you normally take when you go off in the early mornings to practice your knife throwing. Down between the two trees, perfectly lined up with each other, past the boulder that Chan had once chased you around - Chan- no, don’t get distracted - and down the steady slope, the well-trekked path obvious for it lacked foliage and branches in the way.

It was obvious.

So without a second thought, you turn to your right and dash madly in between the trees, losing yourself in their shadows.

No one had really ever travelled off the path, especially not this close to the castle grounds. The ground was far more uneven than the path before, sticks catching on your skirt, hitting the leather of your riding boots - you could feel the small thumps. Even your sleeves, though not wide, caught on the lower branches as you tried to push them out of the way. There was little to light your path but whatever moonlight managed to slip past the trees, highlighting the odd patch of forest ground. Leaves and rocks, roots and fallen branches. You tried to avoid what you could, tried your best to keep your footing, but it wasn’t long before you tripped.

Hands met the ground and a jarring pain shoots up your left arm. You try to stop the cry of pain from escaping your lips, your mouth opening in pained silence as your left hand gives way and you fall onto your side.

The ground is rough through the velvet of the dress, rocks digging into your shoulder as you cradle your arm to your chest. You give yourself only a second, two, to collect yourself. Your wrist hurt, the initial sharp pain dulling down to a strong throb that made you feel like your veins were about to burst with each pulse.

You push yourself up, forcing your legs to carry you further across the forest.

It feels an age before you finally come to a stop, hand against a tree to support yourself as laboured breathing hurts your chest, your head almost woozy from the adrenaline, the exhaustion, the panic and the confusion and the fact that you just didn’t know what was going on and if Chan was even-

Snap.

You force yourself to hold you breath mid-inhale, force your muscles to freeze and your mind to quiet down and your ears to listen.

Snap. Snap.

it wasn’t coming from directly behind you. You gulp, turning your head to your right, squinting against the darkness in some hope it would make your vision clearer.

There’s someone there, and even silhouetted from a distance, you can tell they’re in bad shape - one hand held a sword, the other their side, and with each step forward, a limp becomes more noticeable.

They raise their sword hand in greeting and it takes you a second to process.

Chan*.***

You trip in your haste to get to him, barely managing to regain your footing before your next step propels you forward. You’re stumbling across the ground and you feel the twigs get caught in your skirt, feel your feet kick them out of the way, but you don’t bother to hold your skirt up. The pain in your arm was holding you back from doing so, yes, but the sheer fact that Chan was alright and was here and that you’d found each other - that fact was enough for you to push forward.

You seem to reach him before he does you, your eyes drawing instantly to his left side - a hand was holding a piece of fabric to his side, and as your eyes scan him, you notice he had only one sleeve; he’d torn one off, using it as temporary gauze to stop what you can only imagine to be bleeding. The sword was held loosely in one hand, and to his thigh, your dagger was strapped.

“You’re a mess,” you whisper into the night, heart aching. Your fingers reach out, first for the wound at his side, then to cup his face, but they move ever so minutely that when you stop yourself - you’re a princess, damn it, and Chan was your knight; such acts weren’t befitting of your positions at all - Chan doesn’t even realise you had moved at all.

He chuckles, despite his appearance. Chan drops his sword and lifts his hand to your head, pulling something from your hear and flicking it away. “You’re one to talk.”

You pout, suddenly self conscious and try to clean off whatever dirt had clung to your dress. “Well, you could hardly expect me to look presentable, given the situation.”

“Ah.” Chan grimaces, as if suddenly reminded of the present. “The situation. We- We should get going, deeper into the forest and find somewhere to hide for the mean time.”

“Will you be okay? How bad is the wound?”

He nods, face set in a smile. “It’s nothing life threatening - just a graze,” he comments. “Just a bit of blood-”

He’s cut off as you reach for the dagger strapped to his leg.

“What are you-”

Reaching for the hem of your skirt, you drag the blade across the fabric. It rips with a satisfying sound. Dropping the dagger onto the forest floor, you continue to tear the fabric from the bottom of your dress. Your face burns - standing in front of Chan with your skirt pulled almost to your waist to tear the fabric… you somehow still had the mind to feel self-conscious.

“You can’t just hold that the entire time,” you explain with a final tug to the skirt. It falls back around your legs, higher than before. With a gulp and furiously burning ears, you wrap your arms around Chan’s torso, pulling the fabric around his waist twice before securing it with a knot. “There. Now your hands are free.”

Standing back, you smile at your work.

“Okay, let’s go,” you say and turn.

Though you were ready to move, Chan doesn’t budge. Your muscles relax in confusion, head cocking in question.

His eyes are on you. They’re dark, shadowed by his features, silhouetted by however much moonlight manages to trespass the trees, but you can feel his gaze.

“You’re not…” He gulps, taking in a shuddering breath that causes him to wince, and slowly exhales. “You’re not injured, are you?”

Eyes softening, you feel the urge to cup his cheek again. You shake your head gently. The pain in your arm was easing - it was nothing worth him fretting over.

But how could he, bleeding as he was, still be concerned for your wellbeing?

“I’m fine.” A gentle smile tugs at your lips, and you eye the makeshift bandage around his torso. “Start worrying about yourself more.”

Chan's concern falters and he scoffs. “It's my job to worry about you, your highness.”

He was right, you knew. It was his job, had been his job for as long as you could remember.

“We should get moving, though.” Chan breaks the silence that had fallen between the two of you. “If I were in their shoes, it won’t be along until I either loop back around or send out a full search party to cover the entire forest.”

“So what do we do?”

Your question is met with silence. Chan’s eyes had fixated on a spot on the ground, though you knew he wasn’t really looking at the ground. He had zoned out, the way he does when he gets lost in his thoughts.

Giving him his moment to think, you collect the dagger from the ground. It’s clean, void of any violence it may have taken part in. The blade shone in the night, edges sharp and though cold, the weight of it in your hand brings you an odd sense of comfort.

It reminded you of a time in your childhood when you’d carried an identical blade through these woods.

“I think I know where we can go.” It’s a rush of words as the idea fills your mind, as your brain tries to figure out the kinks in your underdeveloped plan. “He would help us. I know he would.”

An incredulous look passes Chan’s face, so theatrical and comedic that you almost burst out laughing despite the situation.

“’He’? Who is ‘he’?” Chan, so perplexed by the fact that you were acquainted with a boy outside the castle, is frozen in place. “Do I know this person? Why- How do you-” He clears his throat, composes himself, and tries to regain neutrality on his face. “I apologise, princess, but I… have been with you for years, have barely left your side when outside the castle walls… so please forgive my confusion at the moment.”

Though you’d not seen him since that night long ago, you knew he was here. Knew he had stayed in your kingdom, and knew he resided on the outskirts of the town. Any and all businesses who dealt in or with magic were to send official notice to the castle regarding the purpose of their business. Along with a variety of other contracts, it was a method through which the use of magic could be indirectly monitored. The practice had been picked up by all the kingdoms, and any one found to profit off of their magic outside of what they had agreed to would be punished.

You had spied Minho’s name, once, in one of the books that kept such details. An address had been scrawled next to it, and though you had read it out of interest, you had never expected to remember it, especially in a situation like this.

But a mage, you realise, would be the last person Chan would turn to. And how were you to explain how you knew him? How were you to explain why he would help you, without having Chan go off at you about how stupid your decisions had been?

So instead, you take in a slow, deep breath. Tilting your head back to look up at the moon concealed by trees, you exhale. It shone bright, a beautiful sight in the treacherous night.

“Do you trust me, Chan?”

He doesn’t miss a beat, voice filled with absolute certainty as he crosses an arm over his chest and lowers his head into a bow.

“With my life, my princess.”

You and Chan were fortunate enough to not run into anyone as you made your way around the castle grounds. The adrenaline pushes you, keeps your legs working and your ears on high alert. Many times, he had pushed you against a tree, his arm or even his body pressed against yours at the faintest possibility of running into anyone.

You held your breath in these moments. The proximity at which he held you left little space for you to even inhale as deeply as you needed to calm your breathing, and besides - the sound would be too loud to hear anything over it.

When the trees finally start thinning, your legs are heavy and your lungs feel something akin to having had inhaled a thousand thorns.

The forest ended at the top of the hill. To your right, the gates to the castle, the long road up hidden by the night. Before you, the town lay spread out. The houses clustered, divided at intervals to form the many streets. Lit windows were few, and yet you thought that you could almost, if you tried hard enough, hear the hearty laugh of men at pubs.

“Your highness, are you alright? On the edge of the forest may not be the wisest of places for us to rest, perhaps we should-”

Shaking your head, you gather your skirts once more and lift your head. “No, no rest. I was simply sentimental, for a moment. I apologise - such feelings will do us no good right now.”

An expression of confliction crosses Chan’s face, so brief that when you look at him, he looked impassive.

“So, where does this… this person live? Where are we headed?”

The address tumbles from your lips, pulling from Chan a strained look.

“That’s on the other side of the town-”

“But we’ve few, if any other choices,” you reason. “We can’t possibly return to the castle nor can we try and make it to the next town over with nothing on us. We don’t even have money, Chan.”

“Then the people of the town-”

“Will insist on helping us, I know, but I will not take advantage of their kindness when such a thing could put them in danger.” The words come out with much more force than you had intended, the subtle escalation of your conversation with Chan having taken the better of you.

But Chan is seemingly unaffected by it. He regards you with a thoughtful gaze, eyes dancing with both amusement and respect. “Very well. Across town we shall go, your highness.”

Tonight was a night of many firsts for you. The first time you had ever had to flee your home, the first time your life had ever been in danger, the first time you had ever genuinely feared losing Chan.

The feeling had been so alien to you, so impossible to ever fathom, so unnecessary to even had imagined in the past, that as you walked through the sleeping streets of the town you had grown to love so much, you had to resist holding onto Chan like you had when you were a child. It would be silly now, to hold his hand as you had in the past whilst sneaking around the castle. This wasn’t a game anymore; the consequences of being found by the wrong people wasn’t forced study in the library. It was worse, much worse.

So why not hold his hand? Keep him close, know he’s safe - not that you would be able to do much of the protecting, you knew.

But as it had been in the past - when one was in trouble, so too would be the other.

Your fingers flex at your side now, itching to reach out and hold onto Chan as he peers around the corner to ensure no one was there.

He tenses, the same time the sound of a girl's laughter reaches your ear. Footsteps are fast to fade, alongside the quiet murmurs of a man, loud in the soundless night. Lovers, perhaps, heading home together as the night grows old.

A quick gesture of the hands from Chan indicates that it was safe to move. The two of you dart out of the small alley you had been hiding in and enter the town square.

Another first to add to the list; never had you seen the town square bathed in the silver light of the moon, street lamps flickering orange and crossing at the center of the square. Perhaps it was your circumstances, but the emptiness of the town square leaves an uneasy feeling in your stomach.

Chan leads you around the edge, behind empty stalls and shrubbery. Your footsteps echo off the walls of the buildings, playing back into your ears as if to emphasise the emptiness of the town.

“Half way there,” Chan mumbles as he enters a dark alley.

Had that alley always been there? Had any of the roads you’d taken always been there? You knew, realistically speaking, they had been - and yet you could not recall ever having seen them before. Perhaps the street that the bakery had been on, you’d seen before - but the alley that smelt of old blood and meat, the alley that had crates of empty glass bottles stacked by the door. How did Chan know of these roads, of these many paths? Had he memorised the map of the town, the many streets that had never existed to you before now?

It was his job, you supposed, to know these things. And yet the sheer ability to know his way across the town amazed you. Had he ever walked these roads before, or was he simply relying on his mind’s eye, on the chance of an accurate mental recall of the many maps he’d studied?

The scenery had changed - houses were few now, the paths between buildings more dirt and stone than they were stoned tiles, like they’d been in the town square. As you and Chan make your way down the street, Chan a hand on his sword the whole time, you can’t help but marvel at the contrast present in just this one town. Had you not walked here with your own two feet, you would have believed this to be a whole new place. The town you were familiar with had tiled floors, had flowers blooming on the balconies and children in pinks and blues, greens and purples. Not the browns and creams that hung from laundry lines at the front of the houses in the night.

“Up ahead,” Chan breaths, and your eyes scan the distance.

It wasn’t hard to spot, really. The only lit house in the dark street, windows warm with yellow light. There was a sign hanging by the window, but you couldn’t make out the words - weather had gotten the better of the paint. It swung feebly with a passing breeze.

“I trust you, your highness.” Hushed words leave Chan’s lips, followed by a resigned sigh. “I just hope your own trust isn’t misplaced. If they so much as look like they’re going to hurt you, I’ll-”

“He won’t, Chan.” You place a hand on his arm. After a moment, you feel his muscles relax, and Chan moves towards the lit house.

He… won’t, right? You believed he wouldn’t - The last time you had seen him, he had been afraid. He hadn’t hurt you, though you knew he could have. He had listened to you, and you to him, and he had accepted what little help you could offer. You wanted to believe that people were good - that kindness would be remembered.

And yet, back at the castle, his highness-

“There’s someone inside.” Chan, nearing the lit window, holds a hand out to stop you. “I can’t be sure, but it seems to only be one person.”

It’s him. You swallow nervously.

How had the years changed him? Had they even changed him? Would he recognise you at all?

Chan was right. There was someone in the house, their silhouette faint against the window. They were moving around, though it was near impossible to tell what they were doing.

“Are you sure this is the house, your highness? And if so, are you sure this person can be trusted? We don’t know what will happen in the next few hours-”

“Well, we’ve little other choice.” Your statement is all you manage to get out before you push past Chan’s hand. It was now or never - dawdling by his door wouldn’t change the current situation.

Chan makes a shocked sound of protest as you push past him, but he doesn’t move to stop you - only to follow you, and you’re aware of his hand securing it’s grasp on his sword.

Standing in front of the door, you could make out the sound of running water. You raise a shaking hand, fingers curling uncertainly before you squeeze them into a fist and rap on the door. Three quick knocks, breath caught somewhere in your throat as you wait for a response.

Chan speaks up from behind you, voice urgent. “Your highness, please step back-”

The door swings open abruptly, causing you to flinch back in shock.

The heart is a funny thing, really. How can it hold so many emotions at once?

Looking at Minho after so many years was strange. It was like he hadn't aged at all, and yet he looked like he had matured twice as fast as you. His face, though as angular as it had been that night so long ago, was now more jawline and cheekbones, as opposed to malnourishment.

“Lower your weapon, knight, or else I’ll blast you from my door.”

He speaks with a tired drawl, though you see the way his eyes quint in suspicion.

“Minho, it’s me-”

“Yes, I saw you,” he cuts in, eyes still trained behind you. “Not as flashy as your friend’s sword, unfortunately.”

It’s a cold response, not at all what you had expected, but you turn all the same and glare at Chan.

“I told you he wouldn’t hurt us, so-”

“He just said he would blast me from the door-”

“Because you’re waving a great, big sword around, idiot,” Minho says with a roll of his eyes. He’s leaning against the door, body blocking the rest of his house.

“I’m her highness’ knight,” Chan states defiantly, as if challenging Minho. His gaze lingers on Chan for a second longer before he looks at you - really looks at you.

It feels like ice piercing through you, his eyes reading every thought in your head. He knows why we’re here, a small voice in your head tells you. But how could he possibly know that?

“’Her highness,’ huh.” Minho lets the words sit on his tongue, lets it mull over in his head as he regards you. His gaze falls briefly to the dagger in your hand. “Well, I don’t suppose that after all these years you just decided to spontaneously come by in the middle of the night to see how I’m doing, so it’s probably best I invite you in,” he concludes with a sigh. “Tell your knight to sheath his sword, or it’ll be as existent as his sleeve there.”

“We- We don’t have sheaths on us,” you explain hesitantly. “Or anything, really. Just his sword, and the dagger. Not even any money.”

Minho looks down at you - he was taller than you and held himself with such an air of indifference that you couldn’t bare to maintain eye contact. Were you right to come here at all? To ask for help, and, despite your position, have nothing to offer in return?

A defeated sigh leaves him before he steps aside. “Whatever. Hurry in, then.”

He steps aside and after a moment’s hesitation, you make your way into his house.

It was cozy, unlike the great stone walls of your home. Sure, the library fireplace was warm and comforting, but the sheer size of the castle and all of its many rooms were nothing compared to the small space Minho lived in.

Dried plants hung over the window, each bundle a different kind. The table was laid not with the remnants of a meal well eaten, but with more plants and glass bottles, books opened with feathers marking different sections, and a range of things you barely had time to try and identify before you were ushered further into the house.

A fire blazed low in the corner of the room, opposite a messy looking kitchen. The sink was filled with unwashed dishes and more glass bottles, which you had only ever seen in books before. Few chairs were scattered around the room - wooden chairs that you assumed to belong to the table out front were occupied by books and blankets, and a long, two-person sofa had been turned into a makeshift bed. In the corner between the sofa and the fireplace, two wooden doors lead off into unknown areas of the house.

“Well, do sit down,” Minho says with a wave of his hand. Static seems to fill the air as items move from the chairs to the floor, neatly stacking themselves upon one another. “Having the princess and her royal knight standing about my living room is making me quite… anxious, for lack of a better word.”

You watch in amazement as the blankets fold themselves up.

“You’re a magic user?!” Chan whirls on Minho, eyes wide in shock. There’s an edge of something akin to fear or anger - you can’t quite place it, distracted instead by the way the room accommodates for two more people.

“What, your princess didn’t mention that I’m a mage?” Minho retorts, amusement in his eyes. “Shame. But that seems the least of your problems, if you’re coming to my door at this hour. Now, sit.”

An invisible force maneuvers you and Chan down into the sofa. Chan falls with an indignant sound - was this his first time encountering magic? You’d never talked to Chan about magic, before. Nothing beyond stories of faeries and witches, curses and potions.

“Minho,” you begin, before Chan could say anything to worsen a relationship you were surprised had started off on such bad footing. “We- we need you help. I need your help.”

You meet his eye, and for the first time that night, Minho holds your gaze with a seriousness that felt befitting of the situation. Was he aware, after all, of the situation? You were sure that the voice you had heard earlier that night had been his. But no matter how you tried to rethink the situation, there was nothing you could think of that would explain why he had told you to run.

Perhaps you had imagined it, in your drowsed, sluggish state, but you search his face all the same, for any sign that he had sent you the message, had been aware of the potential danger you had been in.

He turns away, a shrug of his shoulders the only sign that he had heard your request at all.

Minho moves to the sink, and in a surprising act of normalcy, picks of a sponge and turns on the tap. He begins to wash his dishes.

Chan glances towards you - this person who you had believed would help obviously showed no care about whatever predicament you were in.

You fidget nervously at the velvet of your dress. Minho places a soaped up plate in the adjacent sink.

“I was hoping-”

“If you knew where to find me,” he suddenly says, his back still towards you and Chan, “Then you’ll know I run a business. Magical assistance in exchange for payment. And, as I recall, the pair of you are quite penniless at the moment.”

“Her highness is still the royal princess.” Chan sounded like he was speaking in court, stating facts as if to argue their case. His voice was clear, rock solid despite your wavering faith in Minho. “Whilst we may currently be in a difficult situation, rest assured that your assistance, should it be provided and adequate, will be rewarded fittingly.”

Minho doesn’t reply to this. He continues to wash his dishes. In the silence, you look around the living space.

Unlike your own home, the walls of Minho’s house were bare of any intricacies. Simple wood, with no grand photos of family members hanging - though, knowing Minho, you’d be surprised if he even had any. Across the fireplace mantel were jars of what seemed to be dried up herbs, sticks of what you recognised as cinnamon, and- were those egg shells? A strange assortment of things, you mused.

“Your highness,” Chan whispers. He leans in towards you, sofa shifting under him, and raises a hand to cover his mouth. “Perhaps your trust- Apologies. Perhaps we are unwelcomed here. It may be best we leave as soon as possible, if this boy refuses to help us.”

“He’s the same age as us, Chan.” Well, you think he is, anyways. “Please - just give it another minute.”

Despite your hopes, Chan seems to be right. The only thing dissuading you from the belief that Minho wanted nothing to do with your recent events was the fact that he hadn’t blatantly turned you away.

The sound of water eases and shuts off. Minho busies his hands - with what, you couldn’t see.

“Was there trouble? At the palace?”

You’re surprised by his question - so he was willing to help? Or, at the very least, hear you out?

“Yes, how did-”

“What makes you say that?” Chan says, and a jolt ran through you. Never had Chan spoken over you so forcefully before. He doesn’t meet your eyes and instead frowns at the back of the mage’s head.

Minho doesn’t answer immediately. He continues whatever other task he had started, back to you. After a few seconds, he turns and grabs for a tea towel. He leans back against the sink, wiping his hands.

“Well, is it not the most obvious thing to have happened?” With a forced smile at Chan, Minho discards the towel behind him. “Why else would you and the princess be at my door, penniless and on foot, at this hour? If not for trouble at the palace, surely you would have opted for a horse or two, and if you knew I ran a business, surely you would come with some form of payment.”

The points, while well made, seemed to do little to ease whatever suspicion had overcome Chan - it didn’t take much to guess what those suspicions were concerning, and you turn to Chan with a resigned look.

“It took you some time to formulate such an easily deducible answer,” Chan muses aloud.

“Well, then why ask such an obvious question?” Minho retorts and all of a sudden the temperature in the room seems to drop. The air seems to fizz, and a stroke of fear enters your body as he returns Chan’s glare with his own pointed look.

He pushes off of the sink and walks forward.

He doesn’t carry the same angry threat that you’d seen come from Chan when his men were out of line. No glowering, no fists at his side, no long strides to advance upon his opponent. He seems to simply walk across the room instead, his head held high and jaw clenched ever so subtly, never breaking eye contact with Chan. He stops half-way - he doesn’t need to make the full distance. Chan abruptly stands up and makes his own advance.

“Chan, honestly*-***”

“I don’t quite appreciate the way you’re regarding me, knight.” Each of Minho’s words seems to be accentuated by the flicker of the fireplace flame. They’re spoken clearly, carefully - not quite a whisper, but then again, it didn’t take much for him to be heard in the silence. “The implications you’re making, while subtle, are not left unknown to me, human.”

The two of them, knight and mage, are in the middle of Minho’s living space, the tension so high that you didn’t know who to fear for.

“I’ll have you know something, mage*.***” Chan snarls. “I don’t trust you. Not one bit; not at all.” He’s breathing down Minho’s chest, a snarl you’d never seen before turning the face of someone you’d grown up with into someone almost unrecognisable. “I’m only here because her highness believes strongly that you will help us.” He jabs a finger into Minho’s chest, though the latter only raises a brow. “However, it is my job to keep her safe and even if I respect her opinion of others, it does not mean that her and I are of the same mind.”

He’s breathing heavily by the end of it, the tips of his ears red. You had risen from your seat at some point, the waves of unease in your stomach turning turbulent. Your eyes dart back and forth between the two of them.

“And I’ll remind you that it is my house you are standing in and it is my assistance that you are seeking.”

Minho is no where near taller than Chan. The two stand face to face, and yet it was like the mage was looking down at Chan. The scary calm that had taken over him, the careful control of his emotions and his magic - you could feel it in the air, feel the static you had felt earlier, only this was cold. Cold, chilling static, like that of winter waters or thick snowfall.

He doesn’t break eye-contact with Chan. He blinks, he takes steady breaths, he keeps his chin raised, but he doesn’t falter.

After what feels like an age, Chan turns and walks past Minho. You take a step after him, fearful that he was about to leave out the front door, but he simply places himself on one of the vacated stools. He was out of Minho’s point of view, and though the latter was still in his, Chan crossed his arms and closed his eyes, leaning back against the wall.

It seemed impossible for you to exhale fully, much less take a deep breath. You had expected some resistance from Chan when he inevitably found out that Minho was a mage but whatever had happened in the last few minutes was beyond anything you could have imagined.

“Minho, I-” You turn hastily away from Chan and to Minho, who had not moved. He looks at you now with troubled eyes. Gulping, you take in the deepest breath you can manage and exhale through pursed lips. You try again. “Could we perhaps take this elsewhere?”

A tired, resigned smile makes its way to Minho’s face. “Perhaps that would be best.”

It turns out, you discover, that one of the two mysterious doors led out to a garden.

The door shuts quietly behind you as you breathe in the night air. Minho’s garden, while no larger than his living space, seemed to house a variety of plants. Flowers of differing colours, shapes and sizes filled the majority of the space, alongside some recognisable vegetables - tomatoes and lettuce, though few, seemed fresh and ready to harvest. All the plants, you notice, seem to shine in the night. Taking a step closer, you almost let out an exclamation as one, two, three glowing creatures dart in and between the flowers.

“They maintain the garden for me,” Minho says, as if it explained everything. You turn to him, having forgotten for a moment that he was with you. “A marvelous help, they are, especially when I’m away on business.”

He picks up a basket, hanging it off his arm and walks up to a purple flower. You watch as Minho inspects it before pulling a pair of scissors from the basket and cutting the flower off its stem.

“Minho, I wanted to apologise for-”

“There is no need. I don’t seek an apology from you - nor the knight, I might add, before you berate him for his behaviour.” His basket was quickly filling with flowers, though you note there’s no more than two of each kind. “It is not uncommon for me to hear such things, for it is not easy to place your faith in things you do not understand. Though, I confess, such things are less common now. Do you mind?”

He hands you the basket - now filled with so many things that you wouldn’t know where to start if he were to ask you to remove a flower from the lot - and picks up another. This one he begins to fill with produce.

“But he is still my knight, and I ask for your assistance not just for myself but for him as well. Tonight-” You break off, and Minho spares you a glance over the shoulder before he returns to his carrots. “It is perhaps unfair of me to ask you for your help, after all these years,” you finish, an increasing hopelessness somehow making sense of itself in your mind.

A decade, perhaps, it had been since you last saw him. You had every possible means to seek him out after parting, had an abundance of ways you could have assisted him - for you knew, even if he had rejected help the first time, that to do something was better than nothing, and yet you had kept quiet about your encounter. For his own safety, one may have reasoned, but in hindsight it seemed a child’s selfishness was what kept him a secret. Something for you to know, and no one else. Not the maids who tended to you every day, or the queen who asked you what you had done that afternoon, or Chan who was by your side whenever possible.

Minho had returned to stand before you, the second basket full of tomatoes, lettuce, and a range of root vegetables. The hem of his pants were speckled with dirt, and a smudge of it ran over his cheek.

“You saved my life, y/n. I think you underestimate the consequences of our meeting far too much.”

It was like the child you had met so many years ago was back before you, a vulnerability in his eyes that you couldn’t quite understand. You, who had always been sheltered, had always had your safety assured, prioritised, and the child who had been covered in dirt and bruises, twigs sticking out of his hair and so tangled up that you’d had to sit him down and carefully undo all the knots.

The way Minho looked at you now almost scared you - if your request had been not for help, but for his life, you were sure he would have said yes.

Unable to hold the truth in his gaze any longer, you busy yourself with readjusting the basket in your hand, carefully easing the petals away from the rim as to not crush them.

“The last thing I wish to do is to hold that over you, Minho,” you say softly. “It was wrong of me to come to you for help when I fear that asking it of others would endanger their safety. You too are part of this kingdom, and I cannot simply treat you different because of the past.”

“Can’t you?” He sounds wistful, you think, the words almost musing, so soft and quiet that you weren’t sure if they were meant for only your ears, or for no one’s at all.

Then, as if there had been no sentimentality at all, Minho flourishes his hand and the basket of flowers levitates out of your grasp. “I’ll help you - but first, it would seem a good night’s sleep would do you well.”

The door swing opens as Minho nears it, and he gestures for you to enter the house first. The flowers follow you in, Minho bringing up the rear.

Chan, who’d been pacing by the fire, looks up abruptly when he hears you come in. Relief seems to wash over his features, and you give him a strained smile.

“Minho said he’d help us.” You lay a hand on Chan’s arm, and the tension seems to leave his body at the confirmation of your physical presence. “We can rest here for the night, and figure everything out tomorrow.”

“On that note - here, to help you sleep.” A small opaque bottle floats its way to you. “Just light a match, drop in there and leave it in the room. I’m sure the night’s events will leave your mind running when given the chance.”

You take the jar in your hands, feeling its weight as the magic disappears. Peering inside seemed pointless - the opening was just small enough for your finger to fit in; barely enough light could enter the jar for you to see its contents.

“And a salve, for any minor wounds you may have.”

This time, a red jar lands by the sink. It’s even smaller than the bottle, barely the size of your palm. Though Minho doesn’t look at him, you know that he had taken note of the wound at Chan’s side.

“You can take my bed, y/n. The knight can sleep on the floor, or something. I don’t really care.”

“You little-”

Minho ignores Chan, moving to grab a satchel from the table. Your eyes follow him, the way he truly seems to disregard Chan’s presence as he walks past him and towards the front door.

“And you? Where will you sleep, then? I insist you keep your bed-”

“Oh, I won’t be sleeping tonight.” Hand on the doorknob, he turns to you with a glint in his eye. “The moon is full. It’d be a waste to do something as mundane as sleep tonight. I’ll be close by, and there are protective charms on the house. Worry not.”

The door shuts behind him before you or Chan can even protest.

—

Chan’s wound had stopped bleeding. Though he had played it off as a simple graze, you were relieved to see it wasn’t too much of an understatement. The initial redness that surrounded the wound had frozen your mind with fear, but after taking a wet cloth to it, you discovered that it was mostly dried blood that had spread.

The salve Minho had given you smelt resinous, like wood that had been left out in the rain. Your face scrunches up as you scoop a small amount up with your fingers. Setting the jar down next to the chair Chan was sat on, you steady yourself with a hand on his knee and run the salve over his wound. He flinches at the sensation, muscles tensing under your fingers, but keeps his shirt held up.

“You don’t think he’s tricked you into poisoning me, do you?”

You spare a glare at Chan.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” you say, though you know he was just trying to ease the tension.

Though Minho hadn’t returned since he’d left, you could still feel Chan’s discomfort with the situation. He too seemed to sense that you wee troubled - you had caught him shooting you anxious glances as you’d prepared to treat his wound.

“You know, he told me not to berate you.” Having finished applying the salve, you push yourself up from the floor and dust your skirts off. Chan avoids your eye, fixating instead on straightening his shirt and picking at the torn fabric under the flickering light of the fireplace. “Just because he says he doesn’t seek an apology, doesn’t mean that he shouldn’t get one.”

Chan’s jaw clenches, and he looks up you through furrowed brows. “Are you ordering me to apologise to him?”

Your jaw drops at his words, helpless against the hurt that they bring you. For him to bring status into this, to make it seem like he would rather be anywhere but here - his words from earlier echo in your brain: I’m only here because her highness believes strongly that you will help us.

“Chan, that’s not at all what I-”

“I don’t feel like I’ve anything to apologise for,” he says, voice edged with annoyance. “I don’t trust him. I have spoken my truth - but I won’t interrogate you for yours.” His voice is gentler, resigned. “Though, I admit the mage is right. You should rest, your highness. It has been an eventful night, and you will need your energy for tomorrow.”

It felt wrong, to leave and rest without resolving the tension that had formed between you and Chan. A part of you didn’t understand why he had been so aggressive towards Minho, why he was so against the idea of his help… and yet you knew it was wrong of you to expect Chan to understand your thoughts and feelings when you had given him nothing to help form an understanding of your relationship with Minho. To Chan, you realised, Minho was simply an unknown stranger who possessed the abilities to have aided the night’s chaos.

But it felt wrong to reveal your and Minho’s shared history with Chan. Afterall, it wasn’t only your story to tell.

So you take a deep breath, try to catch Chan’s eye one more time, before murmuring a small goodnight.

Minho’s bedroom, located behind the second of the mysterious doors, was dimly lit by a a candle sitting on the corner of his desk. There was a single, unmade bed next to it, and a set of drawers at the other end of the room. Another door (which you presumed led to the bathroom, for you hadn’t seen one in your time here, and what home had no bathroom?) stood in the corner, next to the drawers. There was a window,

It was a small bedroom, void of anything unnecessary.

Placing the bottle Minho had given you on the table, you search for a match. His desk was covered in books and papers, and it’s not until you brave a small box on his desk that you find the matches. You do as he had instructed - striking one, you watch as the corner you stood in lit orange before dropping it into the bottle.

You had been skeptical that dropping a match into such a small space would work - surely, the fire would be extinguished, right? - but you’re mildly surprised when a soft, sweet scent arises. It reminded you of home, of late nights spend in the library reading stories of knights and princesses, witches and curses. A familiar drowsiness overcomes you.

It doesn’t take long for you to find yourself sliding under Minho’s covers. Your mind spares a moment for you to feel embarrassed at the act of sleeping in not only someone else’s bed, but in a man’s bed, before it lets the exhaustion take over.

This time, you don’t fight the heaviness of your body like you had so many hours ago.

This time, you let it consume you.

---

a/n: hi hi! thank you for reading. comments, throughts, feedback, questions - all of these (and more) are appreciated! if you want to be added to the taglist (or alternatively, removed) please let me know &lt;3